#the fanfic authors have had it up to here with your not kissing

[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~ ♡

[lilithandherharlots]

Too shy to tell you

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

Miguel hides your heals in hopes of making you forget you ever owned a pair...he confesses about his theft during a hot and heavy night of sex.

Warnings: This might be interpreted as possessive or an unhealthy bond. Though its supposed to be just a very shy and respectful Miguel who let's loose during sex.:]

Authors note: I am not a writer!! This is my first time righting fanfic.. like.. ever!!! So don't attack me. Though honest, constructive criticism is something that I would love to hear. Sorry if there are spelling mistakes. Also, I don't know how to put proper description..... enjoy!!!!

:::

"Miggy?" I call out to my boyfriend who's currently towering over the coffee machine, waiting for it to brew.

"Yes, my love?" He responds with a look over his shoulder.

"Have you seen my black pointed heals? I can't seem to find them."

"No. Have you checked by the door?" He was lying.

He was lying. He was lying, and he didn't feel bad about it. The truth was he had stuffed them in the highest cupboard of the laundry room. He knew you couldn't reach it. He liked it that way. He couldn't let you open it since he had stuffed at least 4 pairs of heals in there.

"No miggy, they aren't here." You say after checking everywhere by the front door.

"Idk what to say, baby... we have to leave soon. Just throw on a different pair and I'll buy you some new ones later."

He was a liar... and he was damn good at it... until he wasn't.

:::

It was 2am. This insanity started hours ago, but Miguel's stamina wouldn't let down. Your soft moans could fuel him till sun rise, and he would love to do this forever. But unlike him, you have limits. Limits to your ability to stay strong, or at least keep yourself up right. But he doesn't really care. Your begs for a break won't succeed with a constantly starving man like him.

"One more round, please baby... please. I need you." His desperate begs caress your tear stained cheeks as he whispers them softly, leaning over you and filling you with sloppy thrust.

"Miguel- please.. It's too much.." You whine as you try to pull away, gripping desperately onto the sheets.

"Last one.... I promise..." he lies.

He said the same thing the last 4 rounds. If he could have it his way he'd continue. But he knew you couldn't keep going for much longer, so he used this opportunity to tell you what he couldn't bring himself to say otherwise.

"I lied..." he confesses. Watching your tits bounce with every rough trust, keeping himself busy while you tried to form a reply. It took you a while, but you managed to let out a soft hum, waiting for him to explain himself further.

"I took them. Your heels.. I fucking hate those things.." he thrust get faster as he says it. Hoping to make your brain foggy enough to not remember his confessions in the morning.

"I like your height, so why do you wear those weird things?" His heart felt lighter as he told you.

"I like that your height forces you to get on your tippy toes every time you want a kiss from me.. and even then, I have to bend over to reach you.... I like that you rely on me to reach those high shelves. Every time you ask me, you grow as red as a rose...."

You can feel his movements speed up. You can barely hear him... your mind fuzzy from pleasure. Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin felt like white noise at this point. The dim shadow of his frame covering you completely.

"You're so small under me.. your body falls any way I bend it..." At his point, he was just speaking the first thing to cross his mind.

You didn't hear him, and he knew it. Seconds later, you feel his weight shift, the mattress by your head sinking under his heavy hand as he leaned in and whispered.

"Please don't take that away from me."

His words were demanding. He felt exactly what he said. Even though your eyes were shut tight, you knew his eyes were locked on you. His breath heavy, as if he just confessed a dirty secret. He kinda did...

"Promise me.... Promise me you won't wear them and I'll help you cum."

As tired as you were. You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. So you give in.

"F-fine... I promise."

"You promise what?" He smirked hearing your whiney voice.

"I promise I won't wear the heels!!"

The pleasure he got from you saying that was immense. He shifted his weight once more as he changed your position like a marionette doll. Spreading your legs apart. His hands wrapped around your thighs, and his claws dug into your skin. The stinging pain of it was a wake-up call, causing you to gasp for air.

This position caused him to go deeper. The sticky mess from your previous rounds was being pushed out of your aching hole. The sound of his hips hitting your ass grew louder with every precise thrust. They got louder and louder until they stopped. Your thighs had clenched closed as you hit that high you were chasing. And you took him with you. Tightening around his pulsing cock in a way that made him fill you to the brim once more.

He watched your body shake. Your hips jerking forward. He would usually take that as his sign to keep going, but your fucked out face was telling him you couldn't take another thrust.

"You did great my love..... my little angel~" He cooed gentle praises as he rubbed your claw marked thighs.

"I'll buy you the cutest flats."

:::

A thing he didn't know.. is that you lied, too. His secret cupboard was emptied, and your heal collection was restored... and yes.. he pouted in silence.

The end

[latin5mamii]

HEYY! this is literally my first time requesting but i love ur page sm. can we get just a pure jude fanfic that's just comforting as shit (speaking on behalf of my depressed jude girlies) ILY 🩷

Only for you - Jude Bellingham

Summary: You love cuddling with your man...

Genre: blurb, fluff

Warnings: really short...😔😔

Author's note: Sorry for the wait bae🙏🏻🙏🏻

The day had been long, and you and Jude had barely seen each other. His training sessions were grueling, and your work had been equally exhausting. But now, you were both home, ready for your favorite part of the day. You knew Jude had been looking forward to this moment just as much as you had.

Jude was already in bed, scrolling through his phone. You joined him, slipping under the covers and immediately snuggling close to his side. He put his phone down and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you even closer.

"Hey there," he said softly, his voice looked tired.

"Hey," you replied, resting your head on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was comforting, and you sighed contentedly.

Jude kissed the top of your head. "You comfy?"

"Very," you said with a smile. "This is the best part of the day."

He chuckled softly. "I agree. Just you and me, no distractions."

You snuggled closer, your legs intertwining with his. Jude's hand gently traced patterns on your back, you loved that and since you told him, he can't stop doing this.

"How was your day?" he asked, his voice a gentle murmur.

"It was good. Busy, but good. How about yours?"

"Pretty much the same," he said. "But it's better now that I'm here with you."

You lifted your head to look at him, smiling at the sincerity in his eyes. "You're sweet, you know that?"

He grinned. "Only for you."

You laughed softly and leaned up to kiss him. When you pulled away, you rested your head back on his chest, feeling completely at ease.

"Please let this moment last forever" You said, really hoping that you would always have moments like this in your future together.

"I'm not going anywhere, believe me"

[endzithefangirl]

Sleepy interruptions

Authors note: Hello, I'm back. Don't ask why or how I wrote this Max Verstappen blurb, but here we are. Also, I have like 8 more fanfics that I've been working on that I plan on publishing at some point (you can thank @angelussiderum for always reminding me to write).

Summary: An unexpected guest crashes Max's stream

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, gender not specified but the term 'girlfriend' is used, sleep deprivation? is that a warning

Word count: 516

You hated these long working hours, especially now during the summer. You can hear Max streaming on ‘Red Line’ in the other room. Now, 9.9 times out of ten, you wouldn’t bother him. But… You just haven't seen him in almost 20 hours and it's already 11pm... So, you walk into the streaming room. Max was sitting behind a huge PC that had about 4 screens; his monitors were showing a game that he was playing while he is streaming on his main monitor.

"Come on... come on.... there…!" He mutters as he plays, too caught up in his game to notice you entering the room. You, in your sleep deprivation and probably from too much diet Pepsi, just walk towards him and wrap your arms around him from behind, not giving two shits who sees at this point. His eyes widen as he feels your arms around him and turns his head enough for only you to hear him speak so that the stream doesn't hear him.

"Baby... you know I'm streaming right now…"

You can see he's surprised, but more confused, as you never really walk in when he's streaming. You, again in the sleep deprived state running on practically nothing, kiss his cheek very softly. It was maybe too tender as his face goes red and whatever he was about to say is forgotten. His mind went blank for a moment, his cheeks turning a darker shade of red as he stares at you. He wanted to say something or protest, but he couldn't bring himself to do so, his brain having stopped fully functioning after your unexpected actions.

"B-baby... I'm…" He stutters out, slowly processing what had just happened and trying to regain control by turning his gaze back to the game on his screen. You move away and then leave, your mind taking you straight to bed.

'Ohhh look who just made a stream debut, huh Max?' one of his friends from the stream laughed as Max attempted to compose himself. Max let out a shaky exhale, trying to compose himself enough to respond. "Y-yeah, unexpected cameo from my girlfriend..." He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke and feeling how warm his cheeks were by now, he knew he probably looked like a tomato.

The chat started to flood with more messages as people saw how flustered Max had been and saw this as an opportunity to tease him

'Looooooool brooo you didn't know what to say to your gf'

'Did she just interrupt your game?'

'Man your cheeks are so red bro are you blushing??'

Max was silently cursing everything and everyone at that moment, including you, even if it was your actions, or lack of actions, that got him into this messy situation in the first place. He took a deep and shaky exhale trying to calm himself down so he could come up with a decent excuse to explain to chat

"Shut up guys... I just wasn't expecting that to happen... my girlfriend usually doesn't come into my room while I'm streaming... obviously"

[beautouslysandy]

a pretty little valentines for you and me

by: sandy

dallas winston x gn!reader

word count: 380 words

warnings: mushy, lowercase intended, lovey-dovey things, super short, basically just love in one big bucket :)

a/n 💌: i am back!!!! this is super late but a fellow fanfic author invited me to write a fanfic for valentines but um..your girl kinda forgot. so here it is! enjoy! sorry its so short, i am trying to get back into writing! i hope y'all like this, its been a hot minute since i have written fanfic!

----------------------------------------------------------

"so, do you like it doll?" dallas asks nervously, he is rarely nervous

you and dallas were currently at y'all's favorite diner. in y'all's booth. dallas had just given you a promise ring. you were shocked. you didn't think that the dallas winston would be into this kind of thing.

you look up at him and nod, smiling. your eyes are a bit watery, you think its just from the overflow of emotions you have felt all day.

this had been the best valentines day ever.

"i really like it, babe," you say smiling then you glance back at the promise ring on your left middle finger. its an infinity sign ring and it fits you perfectly.

"its my promise to...." dallas began, he cleared his throat and his face grew red ever so slightly, then he proceeded to look down. he mumbled. "you know love you forever or whatever, doll."

you were grinning from ear to ear now, partly because of how sweet the gesture was but also because you knew that meant a lot coming from him.

"i love you more." you joke

dallas looks at you with his goofy grin you have grown so fond of.

"no way in hell is that possible doll." dallas says chuckling

the waiter finally brought your food to y'all, you had been waiting thirty-five minutes. far too long for a local town diner.

"what took so damn long?" dallas said to the waiter, returning to his old self and not the lovey dovey mess he was only a minute ago.

"sorry, the kitchen is really backed up." the waiter says handing us our food.

"sure it is, this place is packed." dallas says sarcastically as he bites into his burger. you hold down a laugh, as you didn't want to embarrass the waiter further.

the diner was empty besides the normal 8 o'clock crowd, which was just a few young adults and old people.

the waiter walks away, and you start laughing, you catch dallas looking at you with seemingly stars in his eyes.

"what?" you ask, your laugh dying down

"nothing, doll" he says smirking then goes back to eating

"happy valentines" you say grinning

"happy valentines, doll" dallas says and he bends over the table and kiss you softly

p.s. sorry i am so late to this @rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me

[f1fnatic]

100 WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU ⤿ l. norris 4

→ ( in which. . . ) it is your and lando's 4 year anniversary and as a gift, you give him a journal of 100 entries of moments during your relationship, here are some of lando's favorite moments.

→ ( type of fanfic. . . ) written

→ ( pairing. . . ) lando norris x sainz!reader (gender not specified

→ ( content warnings/disclaimers. . . ) this is coming from lando's pov, jumps from 2022-2024 at the end

→ ( author's note. . . ) this is my first time with a short summary type of fic, i hope you enjoy! see the end for more

→ ( masterlist )

→ 12/5/2019, the day we first met

it was my first time in the f1 paddock and carlos had invited me to the spanish gp. you accidentally bumped into me, which caused my piping hot, freshly brewed espresso to spill all over the front of my blouse. you apologized briefly before running off to do whatever media duty you had for that day. later, after the grand prix was over, carlos made you apologize the right way and made you buy me a new shirt. p.s that shirt is one of my favorites :)

→ 24/10/2019, the day we hung out 1 on 1 for the first time

we went to lunch and then found this quaint drive-in movie on the outskirts of monaco. they were playing my favorite summer-time movie, grease. i got to see a different side of you that day. you didn't have carlos to bounce off of, it was sweet to see you for you. your presence was so comforting to me. you were so relaxed and laid back. you fell asleep in my lap and that was when your worries truly melted away. i was very giddy after you left, it just so happened to be the first time my heart fluttered at the thought of you. p.s.s sorry for quating grease so much

→ 31/12/2020, new years eve

the day you kissed me for the first time. at first, i was surprised and thought the alcohol was making you act brash and forward. but after you didn't move away, i knew it was on purpose. i do not know what i could have done if you didn't kiss me. carlos got this picture of us and it has become one of my favorites. it marks such an important milestone in our relationship.

→ 23/3/2020, lockdown

when the uk officially shut down their borders and went into lockdown. monaco had shut theirs down a month prior, so i came to live with you until i couldn't anymore. it was hard, i didn't want to leave you and go back to monaco. we were still figuring out if we wanted to be in a relationship and i knew that the time apart would be difficult to navigate. so much uncertainty and change. it helped us grow into the people we are now <3

→ 31/8/2020, the day you asked me to be your partner

it also just so happened to be my birthday. we had been facetiming almost every day/night. i was watching every single grand prix to show my undying support for you. your unofficial home grand prix the day before had gone well, and i remember being so proud of you. you woke me up by surprising me at my apartment door in monaco with a bouquet of my favorite flowers, as well as my favorite snacks. i couldn't help but cry, but then you asked one of the most important questions ever, and obviously i said yes!

→ 8/31/2021, our 1 year anniversary

wow, i could not believe that we had been together for 365 days. one full orbit of the earth around the sun. you yourself are my sun, lando. the light of my life. that night you surprised me with a high-end massage since we were still in lockdown. you do not know how much i appreciated that, work had made me so stressed. it was wonderful to relax. i remember you being upset because we couldn't spend it together and promised that we would never spend another anniversary apart, and so far, you have.

→ 4/1/2022, when i asked you to move in with me

everything leading up to the moment i asked you was so nerve-wracking that i was trying not to have an anxiety attack. i was so scared that you weren't going to say yes, but, obviously you did. once you moved in, my apartment finally felt like a home. it felt so full with you. the happiness that would run through my veins when i saw that your things were next to mine. your clothes next to mine in the closet, our coffee mugs side by side on the countertop, and our shoes piled next to the door, waiting for us to go out together. that was and still is one of my happiest memories <3

→ 14/2/2022, valentines day

our first valentines together in person as a couple! we had such a beautiful ocean view breakfast that you surpirsed me with (it was delicious btw) and then later that night, you took me to dinner and had max decorate our bedroom while we were out. have it on record that that was my favorite night ever ;)

→ 1/7/2022, our first grand prix as a couple

this just so happened to be the day that we confirmed we were dating!! it was such a weight lifted off of my shoulders to finally be able to call you mine in public. the fans were so supportive. i felt so much pride to be able to wear a jersey with your name on it. that whole weekend was bliss.

→ 31/8/2024 our 4 year anniversary

today. that's all i have to say. today has been the best day and everything i could ask for. today you surprised me with the biggest question of my life. today you asked me to marry you. and, without any hesitation, i said yes. of course, i would say yes. lando, you are the best thing to have ever happen to me. you are my world, my everything, my star in a field of black. you have brought such happiness into my life that i can't even BEGIN to describe. i am so unbelievably happy that you bumped into me that fateful day in the mclaren paddock. if you hadn't, who knows where we would be. i love you so much lan, here is to 4 years and so many more.

woww two posts in the span of a week what is happening... i was deciding to add pictures but i could not find any good ones that made sense for the entries. anyways, requests and feedback are welcome! make sure to leave a comment and kudos as well (only if you want :P)

[mercuriians]

I feel like a fic about Atsumu, Oikawa, and Bokuto finding their s/o reading fanfic about them would be hilarious

(You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to <3)

Have a lovely day and thank you if you end up doing this request <33333

a fantasy world

content info — gender neutral! reader, fluffy hq!! drabbles with some crack & hurt/comfort (sounds weird but bear w it, all separate). a teeny tiny bit suggestive in atsumu's part cuz he's a little shit.

word count — 1.9k words.

author’s note — holy HELL this is so late 😭 anon i hope ur still here, i made this pretty long so that's my way of apologizing. im also praying that atsumu is in character because this is only the second time ive written him. anyway, tysm for requesting!! hope u all like this <3

MIYA ATSUMU

your eyes are obstinately glued to your phone, wholly transfixed by the words that were typed across the screen. not a single soul knew about your little hobby and quite frankly, it was likely better that they remained oblivious. you wouldn’t know how to react if anyone found out, but really, there was one particular person who absolutely had to stay unaware.

as it turns out, they were also the very subject of the story you’re currently reading—of course, none other than your sweet, beloved boyfriend, atsumu. not that the term ‘sweet’ was an especially fitting term for him. ooh, that was a sick burn.

now, obviously you loved the boy. atsumu was bold, intelligent, thoughtful, hardworking, and affectionate to the point where osamu and the rest of his team often complained about how shameless he was in front of them. his spirit burned bright with fiery ambition, glimmering red and orange and yellow, and he introduced a kind of light into your life that you had never quite experienced before. at first you were a little wary at first, a little blinded by how much he shone, but because you were just as stubborn as he was, you soon grew used to it.

if anything, you came to learn that atsumu was undoubtedly one of the most inspirational people out there. motivating his peers was like second-nature to him, and even if he didn’t consciously put in the effort to inspire them, he still ended up doing so anyway. his love for volleyball was blatant in its authenticity, in its obsession. so when coupled with his charisma, and, yes, his boyishly good looks, atsumu developed a serious kind of gravitational pull. it was no wonder so many people were drawn in—yourself included.

but, inevitably, something had to be sacrificed. your boyfriend’s devotion to the game often meant that you two didn’t get to spend much time together. if atsumu wasn’t practicing at the gym, then he was either thinking about doing it, on his way to doing it, or—this happens only under the direst of circumstances—recovering from doing it. he was, in every sense of the word, a workaholic.

you were fine with it for the most part, mostly because you had a busy schedule to deal with yourself. if you weren’t doing homework or studying for an upcoming exam for the sake of staying on top of your classes, then you were either fulfilling your duties as a student council member, playing your respective sport, or taking care of things at home.

regardless, there were still times when you wished atsumu was with you. it didn’t matter if he was spewing volleyball jargon, or forcing you to pepper with him, or anything like that. you just wanted to spend time with him, to actually see him and his stupid face and his stupid smile that you want to kiss so badly.

maybe that’s why you’re so zeroed in on the fanfiction you’re reading—to try and make up for what you’ve been deprived of for days on end. a very palpable twinge of sadness tugs at your heart. you push the unwanted sentiment to the depths of your mind, trying to focus on reading the story again.

god, what sentence were you even on? and why was the door suddenly opening—

“hey baby, did ya miss me?”

your soul leaves your body.

before you even have time to think, a shrill scream rips from your throat as you scramble to hide your phone underneath the covers. atsumu's jaw drops, completely and utterly befuddled by your behavior. after a moment he raises his hands in mock surrender. "jeez, darlin', it's just me. your boyfriend, remember?" atsumu says, brow raised. there's a mixture of emotions written across his face—slight concern, palpable amusement, even some suspicion. "what are ya hidin' there on your phone, anyway?"

finally, you seem to find your voice. "n-nothing important," you mumble, clearly and very intentionally avoiding the intensity of atsumu's hawk-like gaze. "i didn't even know you'd be visiting today.. thought you would be busy with practice again."

maybe it's because your boyfriend knows you so well by now, but he catches the hint of bitterness in your tone. his face softens, and he takes one, two, three steps toward you until he's taking up the space on your left. "coach called in sick, so mister perfect decided to just cancel practice for today," atsumu shrugs. you're still somewhat upset, but you can't help but smile at the setter's nickname for his captain—kita shinsuke, the closest embodiment of perfection that anyone's ever seen.

"i'm pretty sure i texted ya that i would be dropping by," your boyfriend adds, glancing over at you. cautiously, you pull out your phone again and open up the messages app. lo and behold, he did in fact text you, but you were too busy with your fanfiction to notice.

your face burns with the weight of your embarrassment.

a small chuckle escapes from atsumu's mouth. "wow, i haven't even done anything and you're already blushin' for me," he teases. you hit his chest halfheartedly, muttering about how mean he's being. you fail to notice the calculating glint in his eyes. you also fail to notice his hand wandering.

a second later, atsumu grins smugly, your phone held securely in his grip.

"what the hell, 'sumu?!" you screech, trying to retrieve the object in vain. "how did you even—"

"i'm good with my hands," he winks, and you don't even have time to scold him for the clear innuendo because he's typing in the password to your phone. all you can do is accept your fate as atsumu discovers the story you were reading.

as expected, he laughs. loudly. it's almost like the laugh he lets out whenever he wins a bet against osamu. you turn away, shame and humiliation gnawing at your chest. there's nothing more you want than to be swallowed by the floor beneath you.

however, when atsumu's laughter dies down a few moments later, you feel him wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "baby," he begins, voice still a little breathless from all his cackling, "why are ya reading this when ya got the real thing right here?"

you look up at him, a confusing mess of emotions swirling within your stomach. "because we don't seem to spend much time together anymore," you admit, lowering your eyes to the ground. "laugh all you want, but these stories are there for me whenever i need them. you probably think it's stupid, or pathetic, or whatever, but.. i miss you, 'sumu."

you close your eyes, preparing to hear another round of thunderous laughter. it never comes.

"open yer eyes for me, babe," atsumu's voice is unexpectedly soft, tender. hesitantly, you do, and your gaze meets his. your boyfriend reaches out, resting a calloused hand against your cheek. his touch is so familiar, so comforting, that you can't do anything else but lean in and welcome it. "i didn't know that ya were feelin' this way, and i'll admit that it's my fault for not noticing. but hey, you wanna know somethin'?"

"what is it?" you whisper.

"i miss ya too," your boyfriend confesses. he leans in, placing a soft kiss against your lips. "and tomorrow, i'm taking ya out on a date."

OIKAWA TOORU

"oh my god, this is so cute," you sigh dreamily, swinging your feet in satisfaction as you indulge yourself. it was fanfiction, for crying out loud—can you really be blamed? this particular story practically reeked of fluff. you had just received flowers from the male lead, with you two having confessed just a few days ago. now you were on the first date, entering the doorway to a beautiful relationship that made every reader jealous.

the fact that the male lead—the infamous setter of aoba johsai, fanboy of iwaizumi hajime, hater of ushijima wakatoshi—also happened to be your boyfriend was just a minor detail.

you continued reading, the outside world completely irrelevant as you immersed yourself in the story. soon another squeal leaves your lips as oikawa, the male lead, bends down to kiss your hand. he says something swoonworthy, causing you to giggle like a madman. "that's it, i'm marrying you," you say, as if he can hear you through the story.

"marrying who?"

you let out a defeated sigh as your boyfriend pops his head into your room. there's a pout on oikawa's face, his mocha eyes filled with mock betrayal. still there's a part of you that knows he actually is a little bit jealous; he just doesn't know that technically, he's jealous of himself. "who are you marrying, babe?" he asks you somewhat accusingly. "i think it's a bit too early for—"

"shut up please," you groan, a bit sad that your reading session got interrupted. "i'm reading this fanfiction of you, and in the story, you're actually nice to me."

you immediately hear an indignant gasp from your boyfriend. he puts a hand to his chest, his pout now even more prominent. "excuse me, i am nice to you," oikawa scoffs as he walks over, squinting at the story you're reading. "i'm way better than him!"

"you are him," you deadpan.

"exactly! why are you reading that when i'm right here? i'm hurt," oikawa says in disapproval, shaking his head at you. "now move over."

you blink—once, twice. "wait, what?"

"i wanna read too," oikawa says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, "so i can list all the things they got wrong about me."

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

maybe reading fanfiction about your boyfriend wasn't the best idea. it's not that the story wasn't great because it really was—the characterization was on-point, the writing style was smooth and elegant, and the plot was creative. it's more about your boyfriend himself. particularly the way that he reacted when he found out.

"am i not good enough?" bokuto asked you quietly as he stared up at you. his golden eyes were absolutely despondent, his shoulders were slouched, and even his owlish hair looked like it was deflated. you didn't need akaashi to understand that those were all signs of an emo bokuto.

and it was all because of you.

man, the guilt was unbearable.

"koutarou," you say softly, reaching out to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. "baby, you are more than enough for me. you're amazing, okay? you're my anchor, and you make me smile when no one else can. compared to you, this fanfiction means nothing." you pause, placing a tender kiss against his warm cheek. "seeing you sad makes me sad, you know?"

"i'm sorry," bokuto mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. "i thought i'd let you down or something, like i wasn't being a good boyfriend. it scared me."

his words make your heart hurt even more. you pull away from the hug, letting your earnest gaze meet his. "from now on, you don't have to be scared," you tell him seriously. "i'll stop reading fanfiction, and every day, i'll remind you of how much you mean to me. is that fair, kou?"

bokuto nods, and it's at that moment that you start to see the gloomy aura around him disappear. "i love you," he says, and you can tell that he means it. he always does.

you pull him closer, your fingers combing through his hair soothingly. he hums quietly, enjoying the feeling. "i love you too, koutarou," you smile. "and no story will ever change that."

you let a few moments pass by, simply listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. slowly, you let your eyes close, your boyfriend's strong embrace lulling you to a light rest. after a few moments, though, bokuto's voice breaks through the silence. "can i ask you a question, babe?"

you open your eyes. "anything."

he pulls away, his expression completely serious as he looks at you. "can we get something to eat?"

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Mine - Part 4

Pairing: Soft!Dark Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Word Count: 2643

Summary: Steve and Reader struggle with whether they can trust one another or not. Both have feelings but is it enough to forgive and start over? Will they be able to have the future they each dream of?

Series Warning: NON/DUB CON, Swearing, Angst, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Male Masturbation, Somnophilia, Drugging, Light Bondage, Physical Fighting, Rough Sex, Choking, Female and Male Oral, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Forced Orgasms, Spanking

Please READ the Warnings!! These will be touched on throughout the series.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait with this fic. I just have recently been able to type again after my right shoulder surgery.

A/N 2: This chapter isn’t as dark as the other ones.

Moodboard by @fictional-affairs

Thank you to my beta readers @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @pigwidgeonxo

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. Even if you leave an emoji you will make my day. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps, or third-party sites. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫 🚫

Time seemed to go by slowly as you sat in the bedroom window watching as Steve finished chopping up logs for the fireplace. A faint sound of thunder echoes throughout the room and little goosebumps rise on your skin. You snuggle into your hoodie to chase away a storm that is brewing not just outside but within you as well. Steve grabs a bunch of logs and starts heading to the house. Light rain falls from the sky covering the ground below. You hear the door open and close downstairs followed by him walking around. 

The storm seems to pick up as the wind blows through the trees. You hear footsteps coming up the stairs and your hands start to fidget in your lap. Will he be in a good mood today? Your heart is beating faster and faster the closer his footsteps reach the door. Suddenly a key unlocks the door and you hold your breath. Which Steve will greet you today? The door creaks open and you sit as still as you can. 

“Doll? I got a fire going in the fireplace and soup simmering on the stove. Why don’t you come join me?” His words held no authority in it but a simple request. 

You slowly stand up and turn to face him, walking over to where he stood in the doorway. Your eyes glanced over him as he stood before you in a flannel shirt, jeans, and boots. He gives you his million-dollar smile and pulls you in for a hug. Closing your eyes you let him envelop you in his arms. Your arms wrap around his body and you just give in. A minute later he is taking your hand and walking you down the stairs. 

The warmth from the fire hits you as soon as you descend the stairs. The smell of wood burning and soup filled the air as you took a deep breath in. Gosh if this was only a different time and place you would swear you were home. 

Steve leads you over to the table and pulls your chair out for you. You offer a shy smile and thank him. Steve kisses the top of your head and walks the short distance to the kitchen where he can still see you. 

Your eyes scan the dining room and kitchen. Steve was right, this is how you wanted your future house to look like. It’s as if he took all the ideas from your head and made it a reality. Everything in here was perfect except the man you once loved was a kidnapping, psychopath who had ripped away any trust you had in him. Tears lightly poured from your eyes and before you could do anything Steve was wiping them away. 

You hadn’t noticed that he brought the soup over to the table. Instead, he kneels next to you and continues to wipe them away gently as he takes in your shaking body.

“Doll, what’s wrong? You know you can speak to me about anything, right?” His voice is laced with concern and his deep blue eyes stare at you taking everything in. 

You shake your head as you continue to cry. What if you shared the truth about everything with him? Would he still carry out this twisted plan?

“Steve I can’t, I won’t share my thoughts cause you will just be mad at me. I don’t want to be humiliated again with your punishments. Let’s just eat and forget about it, okay?” 

Steve just stared at you. He knew something was weighing on you but did he want the truth? What if it was about leaving could he keep his composure? He shook his head knowing that this was tearing you apart inside and being this nervous around him wasn’t healthy.

“Please, doll, I promise I won’t be upset with you. Just tell me the truth.” His hand caresses your cheek. “I swear I won’t punish you for being honest with me. All I want in this world is for you to be happy with me.”

Your gaze drops to your lap where your hands are and you take a deep breath trying to calm yourself. You look back up into his blue eyes and decide it is now or never.

“It’s not that easy Steve to tell you this. There is no question that before all of this, I loved you from the moment I met you. Your smile drew me in and I knew I was yours forever. At that time you would flirt but always held back with me like you were searching for something else or maybe someone else. That was until recently and your emotions shifted so quickly that I felt overwhelmed but excited that you finally wanted me. But that’s a lie 'cause you just want to breed me.”

Steve’s breath hitched and he was about to retort before you cut him off.

“That night we made love, I finally felt like my dreams were coming true and that maybe you had loved me all along. But that’s not the case. You said it yourself last night you want me to listen to you and not question anything you say. But how can I not question your behavior? You’re mean, and controlling and you have a device on me to keep my super soldier serum from working. You talked about how I broke your trust, have you ever considered that you shattered my trust with you? The love I once had for you is slowly falling apart and I don’t think I could ever love you under these circumstances.”

Steve listened as you poured your heart out. A part of him wanted to be angry about what you’re saying, while another part of him couldn’t believe that you were once in love with him. Once? Steve shook his head, maybe he was going about this in the wrong way. He never liked bullies and from what she is saying he sounded just like one.

“Steve trust goes both ways. If you want me to earn yours then you must earn mine as well. This dominant thing you’re doing over me won’t work if you want true love and a family one day. I’m pleading with you to stop this madness and let’s work on us before my love goes out like a flame never to be lit again.”

He takes a breath in and out trying to contain himself. Yes, he could see what she was saying about him. Steve did want her to make a family with but it was more than that. Little did she know he loved her the same, from the very beginning. He didn’t think for an instance that Tony would match them together in a million years, that’s why it never went beyond flirting. Steve took her hands in his and decided he needed to be honest.

“Look doll, I have loved you from the day we met. I never thought I would ever have a future with you. Not until Tony said we matched. I was so focused on finding the right woman who could have my children that I got blinded along the way. I’ve never wanted to hurt you nor do I plan on it. I just want a chance at us. For what could be? But it’s hard to trust your intentions after you tried to run away from me. How can I know if what you’re saying is the truth?” His eyes pleaded to hers as he searched her face for answers.

There is no way he loved her for that long. But, what if he is telling the truth? She closed her eyes and thought back to the beginning. Their awkward conversations, the silly jokes, him always complimenting her, the soft touches when no one looked and then it clicked. Her eyes opened wide and a tear fell from them again.

“I’m sorry I tried to run away but I was scared. I didn’t know what you wanted to do with me. You can believe this to be the truth. With how messed up this situation is I don’t want to be away from you. Look if we both try, maybe we can work towards trusting one another again. What do you say?”

Steve gave you that smile you always loved. He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on your lips. “Let’s try again and work towards trusting one another. I promise to not harm you or take you against your will again. But know this, if you are lying to me you will know my wrath, and trust me when I say you haven’t seen the mean side of me yet.”

The last sentence sent chills through your body. By the way, he was looking at you, you swore there was something evil brewing. You kept telling yourself to relax and everything would be okay. If you did decide to run, the time had to be right. For now, your feelings were telling you to try things with Steve. What’s the worst that could happen?

The next morning you woke up to Steve cuddling you close and your legs tangled together. You had gone to bed in just his t-shirt and he slept naked.  The rain had ended overnight and the sun was rising in the sky. You reflected on last night after you spoke your truth. Steve let you sit by the fireplace and read a book instead of locking you in the bedroom. It was a nice moment between the two of you when he sat on the other end of the couch with your legs in his lap. 

Before bed, Steve had told you that tomorrow you both were going to try to start over again. That he would follow your lead on this while he learns to trust you again.

You smile to yourself as you soak up all the cuddles from him and let out a sigh of contempt. Just as you wiggle your butt from excitement you hear a groan behind you.

“Keep that up and I’m going to fill that pretty pussy.”

A giggle escaped your lips. “So what if I want you to?”

Steve’s eyes opened at that comment and he had a grin on his face. “Is that so?” He questioned. 

When you wiggled again Steve quickly rolled you onto your back and parted your legs so he could now lay in between them. Steve pushed his shirt up and pulled it off quickly. He rubbed his cock against your already wet pussy. You couldn’t help but be excited cause you knew how well Steve was between the sheets. Steve’s cock started to get covered in your arousal and the tip of his cock kept nudging your entrance until finally, he slid home. 

Both of you let out a groan once he was fully inside you. You wrap your legs around his waist and your hands claw at his back when he starts moving with hard thrusts. Your nails rake down his back with every thrust of his hips. Steve is on his forearms so he can kiss and swallow your moans. With every thrust, you moan and gasp in pleasure. He keeps a steady, hard pace and you end up squealing in pleasure as he hits a certain spot inside you that has you seeing stars. With every thrust, you’re getting closer and closer to your impending orgasm. Steve quickly scoops your legs up with both arms and pushes your legs to your chest deepening his thrusts. 

Your fingernails scrape down his arms as you try to find a way to ground yourself from the pleasure he is giving you. Steve keeps thrusting into you harder and harder while he starts to play with your clit. It brings your orgasm to a peak as you scream his name into the abyss. Your pussy clenches down on his cock as he continues to plow into you. Once you come down from your high Steve pulls out of you and flips you over to your stomach. Pulling you to your knees he sinks back into your velvety walls and fucks you hard and fast as his fingers dig into your hips. 

This is everything Steve has wanted from you. You're being submissive to him whether you realize it or not. Your head is on the bed, fists clenched into the sheets while you moan out incoherent words. He desperately wants to fill you up and breed you. He knows having a baby will link you two forever and the time to start that family is now. 

The faster Steve is pounding into you the closer he is getting to his high but lord he needs you to cum one more time. His left-hand leaves your hip and his fingers move down to circle your clit again. All it takes is a few swipes and you're screaming his name to the heavens above. Your cunt grasps his cock and milks him dry as Steve cums deep inside you. His groans fill the air as he gives a couple more sloppy thrusts into you. Steve looks down on your spent form and leans over your back to kiss your shoulder. 

Once he pulls out of you he goes to the bathroom to clean himself up before he returns to you with a washcloth. Gently he cleans you up and throws the washcloth in the laundry hamper. You’re completely exhausted and feel like you can barely move. If you had your super soldier serum running through your veins instead of suppressed you could have kept up with him, no problem. Now your body could just roll over to your back and look up at him. 

He was smiling down at you looking like a man who just finished a successful mission. You lifted your arms a little to show him you wanted a hug. Steve lay next to you and brought you in for a hug. He held you close to his chest as you snuggled into him. Your cheek rubbed against his chest hair as you enjoyed this feeling of euphoria. 

Maybe things could work out between you both and you could have a happy ending? It just depends on how Steve decides to treat you, like an object or someone to be loved unconditionally. You both promised to start over and this was the best way to show each other how much you loved one another. Hopefully, he will begin to trust you over time and maybe get your super soldier serum flowing through your veins again. I mean it’s not like he wants you like a regular woman, right? There is always going to be that adventurous side of you and you’re going to want a normal life that isn’t just sex. Though you had to admit this is the best sex you’ve had in your life. It’s everything you dreamed of minus the kidnapping part. 

Steve kisses you on the forehead and groans as he stretches. “Why don’t we get in the shower and I will cook breakfast for you? I’m sure you’re hungry. What does my lovely doll want to eat?”

You smile up at him and answer, “Well I do have a craving for pancakes and you sure do make the best ones.”

Chuckling, Steve nods his head. “I can do that for you, doll.”

Steve rolls out of bed and pulls you to your feet. As you walk to the bathroom Steve slaps your butt playfully. “Though first, I think I need another round of you in the shower.”

You squeal in delight as you head to the bathroom. Maybe this could work, you think to yourself as the hot water sprays down on both of you. Today is a brand new day to figure out whatever it is between the two of you. 

Taglist:

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[sorrowsofsilence]

I Was Always Yours • 2

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 5.1k

Part One

Warnings: smut 18+ (mentions of PnV, wrap it b4 u tap it pls), fluff, female/male receiving, anxiety/panic attacks, swearing, alcohol, dirty talk

Summary: You grew up with Nick Ruffilo and Noah, but its been years since you’ve seen your best friends due to them being away touring. When Ruffilo came back to your hometown, opening his home tattoo studio, you get the opportunity to reconnect with him, and Noah. Deep down you’ve always had something for Noah, and it turns out he’s always felt something for you too. Perhaps seeing eachother years later, after you’ve both changed, sparked something.

Authors note: This is part 2! Initially I wasn’t planning on doing a second part but there was a lot of love on the first <3 so thank you! Hope you enjoy this one! (With 2 scenes of smut for all of us sick fucks to enjoy!)

PS. THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

Noah’s back rested against the bedroom wall, the red LEDs illuminating his room. The clock read 3am, way past our bedtime, yet here I was, succumbing myself to Noah’s need.

“I can’t stop thinking about a few days ago,” he had said as I sat in his bed, days after we reconnected. I was playing on my phone while he was messing around on his computer, working on music. We had hung out non-stop since seeing each other; catching up, sharing stories, reminiscing, and just spending time together like we used to with an added activity.

“Me either,” I had replied, sitting up as my heart began racing thinking about it. What were we now? Were we still just friends? Things were not the same, things were different, but It was a good difference, it was how things always should’ve been…but was it the right choice?

“Nicks asleep,” he had said, turning his chair to face me. It was silent for a moment, as we had stared at each other, trying to read the expression on one another’s face.

“I need you so bad Y/N, you have me completely whipped.” He had said, before standing up and walking over to me: he had started kissing me rigidly, taking me into his arms.

“You need to earn your way back to my lips,” Noah whispered as he groaned deeply, his long, inked fingers tangled within the strands of my hair, wrapped around in a desirable hold.

He held my head in place firmly as my mouth slid up and down, hand holding the rest, tongue swirling around the tip. My legs supported me from below as I kneeled before him at his mercy.

“Christ Y/N, you got cheated on when you can suck dick like this?” Noah looked down at me, eyes fluttering closed before tilting his head back in bliss. His hips rolled into my face gently, beginning to fuck my mouth as his other hand joined the first, gripping the other side of my head, “Man's fucking loss,” he scoffed in disbelief.

I rolled my eyes and internally laughed, choking on Noah before looking up through my lashes, watching as his mouth hung open slightly, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. Watching the hold I had over him turned me on immensely. He was falling apart because of me.

I gagged on him for a moment longer, pushing myself as far as I could, before pulling off of him, the string of saliva following my lips.

“Fuck,” Noah gave me a breathy laugh, looking down in awe with a lopsided grin “You were gone from me for too long, you’re telling me we could have been doing this years ago?”

I gave him a small smile, “I think we have a lot of missed time to make up for.”

I wrapped my hand around him, stroking up and down, rotating my wrist, before attaching my mouth to him again. Noah’s hands gripped my hair tighter, keeping me in place once again as he fucked me.

“Such a pretty girl, letting me fuck your mouth like this,” Noah pulled me closer to his abdomen as he hit the back of my throat. I gagged but closed my eyes to keep going.

“Y/N, look at me,” Noah demanded and my eyes snapped upwards towards his own, and he watched me watch him. With his lips parted he observed my every move, heavy pants heaving from his chest, shallow grunts pouring from his soul.

“Shit,” Noah’s body began to twitch, and seconds later my mouth was filled, threads of his release coating the back of my throat.

Noah tucked my hair behind my ears, rubbing his fingers down underneath my chin, “Good girls swallow,” he said, “all of it.”

I moaned at his words and obeyed, watching his eyes glint with satisfaction and complete reverence as I sucked.

Drinking in all of him I pulled away, and Noah leaned down, pulling my chin towards him, planting a kiss on my lips. I melted into him, sighing with contentment as he pulled up his black shorts.

“I was always yours,” he said, “but you keep proving to me that I’m never going anywhere ever again.”

+=+=+=+=+=+=

“Folio, Jolly this is Y/N: Y/N, this is Folio and Jolly,” Noah introduced me officially to Nick and Joakim, the drummer and guitarist, and I immediately felt giddy. Although known Noah and Ruffilo for years, I had never met the other two current members in person; only through photographs.

I had to admit I was a little excited, because I really did enjoy their music, and therefore have always wanted to meet the other two.

“It’s cool to see you guys in person and not on a screen,” I laughed shyly, shaking their hands. Folio squinted with his eyes, his crooked tooth smile even more charming face to face. Jolly pulled me in for a shake and a hug, catching me off guard. I felt flush as his long hair tickled my face, patting his back.

“Nice to finally meet you! Noah hasn’t shut up about you.” Folio said, grinning.

Noah ran up from behind, wrapping his arms around me, and lifting me up. I squealed with my back against his chest, laughing as he swung me around, playfully, “yea, because I missed her,” Noah laughed, placing his face in the crook of my neck, still holding on to me from behind.

I held on to his arms that crossed my chest, blushing at his signs of affection in front of his friends.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.” Jolly smiled warmly, “fucking goof.”

“So, you guys were friends growing up?” Folio asked as we all started walking towards the car. Noah had insisted I ride with the boys to the concert, coming early to spend time and see how everything behind the scenes worked. I told Noah I’d be happy to wait in line with the rest of the crowd, but he was taking this VIP very seriously.

“You want me to punish you if you don’t listen to me?”

Yes please, I had thought; but all I could do was stare up at him as he slowly backed me up towards the kitchen table.

“Noah,” I whined, tilting my head at him as he gripped my hips, his cologne filling my senses, “I’m going to watch the show from the crowd, but I’ll come with you everywhere else.”

My back hit the wood, and Noah leaned over me, placing a kiss on my forehead before kissing down to my lips.

“Good,” he mumbled, his hand sliding around my hip to behind, squeezing me, “but you better be behind the stage by the time I walk off at the end of Dethrone, or we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Yeah, Y/N, Noah and I went to school together,” Ruffilo said, offering me a hand to pull me into the car. I sat between him and Noah, Jolly and Folio sitting in the back row.

“Cool,” Folio said, before drumming on the back of the seat. I watched him, smiling.

“You’re pretty good at that hey?” I said, and he smiled back, shrugging.

“I’m hyped for today, I fucking love this place.”

We started driving towards the venue, and the closer we got to our destination, the more I noticed Noah’s anxiety beginning to spike. The entire time he kept his gaze out the window, hand gripping my thigh, resting his chin on his palm. His leg bounced rapidly, and ever so often I felt his fingers squeeze me, his hand beginning to vibrate.

I looked at him with concern, the smile from my conversation with Jolly fading from my lips as Noah took a brief sharp exhale, staying extremely still except for his leg. I placed my hand on top of his own, and Noah immediately stopped bouncing.

You okay? I mouthed, to which he shrugged, his dark brown eyes looking at me with apprehension before turning his gaze back out the window, the concrete jungle swaying past in a grey, lifeless blur. The boys became quiet, pretending to be preoccupied but watched; knowing that Noah was beginning to have a panic attack.

I flipped our hands, entwining my fingers with Noah’s and resting them on his moving leg, rubbing my thumb delicately across his skin. His hands were clammy but I held on in compassion, creating a soothing, rhythmic touch on the top of his hand. I rested my head on his shoulder, to which he placed his on top of mine.

Without saying anything I began to inhale through my nose, expiring throughout my mouth, and Noah eventually caught on, mimicking my breathing pattern. Opening up his palm, I ran the tips of my finger up and down each appendage, tracing the outline of his hand before circling his palm, moving from the centre outwards, before repeating the pattern. Noah analyzed my movements for a moment longer, and I sat up, turning my body to face him.

He watched me, eyes still filled with worry but transitioning to appreciation, before he closed his eyes, pushing his face into the side of mine affectionately. He stayed there for a moment, the soft breath of his exhale brushing across my cheek. With my free hand, I reached up, pushing the bangs delicately out of his face, running my hands through his hair, hoping the sensations helped distract him from his anxiety, even for a brief moment.

I felt sympathy for him, knowing that this must be the anxiety Nick mentioned that Noah’s struggled with lately. Fans have been crazy, and for someone who has always had a low social battery, I can imagine it must be even more difficult for him.

I gave Noah a small smile, before leaving in, giving him a delicate kiss of love and confidence, showing him that he is supported.

“Better?” I whispered, and Noah squeezed my hand in response, eyes lingering on me for a moment more before he let out another breath.

“I don’t know how I survived so long without you.” He whispered back, almost sighing in relief.

I couldn’t help but blush, resting my head on him again, and he wrapped his arm around me now, leaning me into his chest.

Once we arrived we were rushed into the building. Thankfully there were no fans out yet because we were so early- but I was glad because otherwise, rumours would start. Noah held my hand the entire way, only letting go once we arrived at the green room, and him heading to the washroom.

My eyes followed him as he left, the door closing quickly. I then turned to look at Ruffilo who patted me on the head.

“Nice work Y/N/N.” he hugged me, and I breathed into his chest, sighing.

Folio nodded in agreement, “Wow. I haven’t seen him calm down that fast in a while.”

I frowned, looking at the three of them sadly, “this is a usual occurrence?”

Jolly nodded, “unfortunately. Ever since the fans found out shit about where we lived and dug up stuff from his past, he hasn’t been the same.”

I turned, watching the door, waiting for Noah to return, “that breaks my heart.”

The boys nodded, agreeing.

“But honestly, we still have a fuck ton of fun,” Ruffilo said, reassuring me.

“Yea,” Folio said, beginning to drum the air, “now we get to fuck around until sound check.”

I laughed, “And that means?”

“Tomfoolery,” Jolly said, a glint in his eye, “and shots!”

+=+=

“Fuck I hate vodka,” Noah grumbled, eying the shot glass with a look of disgust, lip curling.

“Don’t be such a pussy, Sebastian,” I raised a brow, the boys cheering as I downed the shot, my nose scrunching as the alcohol burned my throat.

Noah plugged his nose before shooting it back, shaking his head as he swallowed it, coughing.

“That shit is literally vile,” he whined, chugging some juice to mask the flavour.

“Don’t be so dramatic pretty boy, you’re fine,” Jolly laughed, patting Noah’s back.

“You don’t know shit about fuck,” Noah glared, laughing.

“I don’t know shit about fuckin, but I know shit about everything else!” Jolly said, downing a shot himself, and I laughed, smiling harder than I probably have in years.

“Aight boys, time for soundcheck,” Noah said, before extending a hand for me to take. Entwining our fingers he led me with them. I had to admit this was very exciting, getting to see the process of how behind the scenes worked.

Once each section was set up, Folio started drumming, and I watched in amazement as his feet followed his arms, beginning to alternating patterns, hitting the double beat and cymbals.

“He’s extremely talented!” I said, appreciating the opportunity to watch Nick without any other sound present- just the drummer.

“Folio is a complete animal on stage.” Noah agreed, folding his arms and watching in approval.

It was Ruffilo’s turn next, then Jolly, and then Noah.

Noah held the mic close, fiddling with his earpiece, hitting a variety of notes. I watched in amazement, falling completely in love with his ‘acoustic’ voice. It was rare that I got to hear him bare, without any music.

Once they finished, they packed up, and Noah explained how the rest of the show was going to work. They were going to let the audience in soon.

“Are you sure you want to stay in the crowd?” Noah asked, reluctant.

I nodded reassuringly, “of course! I gotta get the bad omen experience.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Nick joined us, placing an arm across my shoulders.

“But- how else is he supposed to get a good luck kiss between songs?” Ruffilo teased as I leaned into him, slapping his chest playfully.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes, “he never needed those before and did just fine.”

Noah gave me a cheeky grin, “ok but now that I can have a good luck kiss, it’s gotta be a ritual now.”

I shook my head, smiling at him, “Whatever, I’m going to go get my fangirl on.”

I turned into Nick, squeezing him, “break a leg, but not literally,” I said.

“I’ll try not to or will I-“ he laughed, before turning to head to Folio and Jolly.

“I’ll let security know to keep an extra close eye on you, I don’t want you getting hurt- especially if a wall of death breaks out.” Noah said cautiously, “And I want you to be against the bar the entire time, and make sure to stay centred so I can keep an eye on you, ok?”

I tilted my head to the side, giving him a ‘really’ look.

“Noah,” I grabbed his t-shirt by the collar, standing on my tiptoes as I pulled him close to me, noses inches apart. Noah’s breathing quickened, his lips parting gently as his eyes trailed between my mouth and eyes rapidly.

“I’ll be okay,” I whispered, closing the gap between our lips, and kissing him hard. Our mouths moved together, Noah wrapping his arms around me, folding into each other.

I pulled away, Noah following reluctantly, moaning in protest.

“Good luck,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile.

Noah kissed me again quickly, before letting me pull away. As I turned to follow security, he grabbed my wrist, holding me for a moment, his eyes darkening. I watched him confused, before the sentence left his lips.

“Don’t forget what I said, you better be backstage by the time Dethrone is finished.”

A flash of heat washed throughout my body as I nodded, and Noah smiled. “Good. See you soon princess.”

Noah walked away, turning back once to give me a brief wink, and I flushed, following security towards the stage. I hopped down, standing right against the barricade.

Within fifteen minutes the venue started filling, the string of fans running towards the front, some even beginning to push into my back. I held onto the bar firmly, not letting myself be shoved to leave the spot. I shared eye contact with a security guard and I nodded, reassuring him I was okay.

About an hour went by, and eventually, the lights went dark, and the fans erupted into a roar.

I too began screaming, the adrenaline of excitement coursing through my veins. Seconds later the stage lit up with a visual, a video beginning to play. Noah, lying on a mattress with an initiation mask began speaking:

Why do you care about these people?

They don’t care about you- none of them?

They don’t even know you- because you haven’t shown them.

Black and white visuals flashed on the screen, and my heart raced with excitement.

Every day, you’ll wake up, and there’ll be less of you.

You live your life for them,

and they don’t even see you.

You don’t even see yourself.

Jolly walked out on stage, still completely dark, but the guitar riff to artificial suicide began.

Can you hear me through the white noise?

Fans screamed, bodies pushing against me in excitement, waiting for the brunette god to walk onto the stage.

The bass dropped, Folio’s drum beat taking over Jolly’s riff, as Ruffilo walked across the stage, masked, bass pumping through my ears. Fans howled again.

“Can you hear me you sick fucks?”

The crowd went feral.

Noah strutted into the stage, the embodiment of confidence and poise, swinging his arms before stopping mid-stage, gazing over the crowd, a hand covering his chest in appreciation for the turnout. His face was covered, only his eyes and mouth barely visible, as a black jacket and hood covered his body- it was almost a shame he was so modest, but I knew that in a few songs, he would strip, leaving himself exposed in that tight, black, vest top me and every other Noah fan admired.

“Can you hear me through the white noise!” He screamed into the mic, raising it in the air as smoke filled the venue, and I hollered in awe, yelling for my boys.

“Soaked in the neon glows

Silver-forked tongues talking to you in the digital snow

A glitch in the chain, a loop in the brain

You wanted to break, but you still wanna play the game!”

Noah bobbed around the stage, Jolly and Ruffilo head banging and I took it all in. The lights flashing, the smoke, the raging excitement radiating from the crowd- I smiled, eyes brimming with tears. I couldn’t help but feel proud of Noah and Nick, almost in disbelief that this was for them. They’ve grown so much, and it was entirely different getting to be part of the crowd myself compared to watching them online.

I screamed until my lungs felt raw, my throat burning, sweat dripping down my face.

All of this time sitting inside, sitting in the dark

And every night I can see why you could never stop, yeah

Lying is hard, and the truth comes out anyway

You're going way too far, gonna drop dead at this rate

Noah sat in front of me now, singing into his mic, his hair covering his eyes as I watched, completely fascinated.

There's no another way, don't let me go

Don't dig another grave today

I'll make the same mistakes, I'll never know

Who I was before I faded away into the grey

I gazed at Noah as he walked across the stage slowly, singing intentionally with every word, eyes scanning the crowd before he landed on me.

The song finished, and there was a short break, before Noah came back, jacket gone, the only thing remaining a pair of black cargo pants, boots, and that stupid fucking tank top.

The lighting defined Noah’s arms, his tattoos glistened from the sweat, and my heart began to race once again. My mind began to race with a million thoughts, but it kept landing on how good he’d look with his head tilted back as I took him in my mouth- or how much I wanted him to give me everything from behind, hands wrapped around my throat.

“What is up my friends!” Noah boomed, waving his arms, as the crowd yelled.

“We are bad omens and we are so fucking thankful to be here tonight!”

Nick hit the kick peddle of the drum kit in excitement, acknowledging the fans.

“We are gonna play an old song for ya, how does that sound?”

The crowd cheered.

“Who knows if I’m there?”

The crowd screamed again.

There are scars that'll never ever show themselves

You get when you're left alone too long in Hell

They tried to keep in the secrets that you wouldn't tell

But they just stripped you for parts you had to sell

Noah crouched in front of the crowd, reaching his arms out. He followed down the front, until stopping right in front of me. Arm extended, the body of hands around me grabbing onto his arms, but he left his hand open.

Noah sang into the mic, watching my eyes with every move. I stared up at him with a smile breaking out onto my face.

Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall

You'll have a friend down in Hell after all

And if you're there to catch me when I fall

Then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all

I didn't want to believe how much you needed help

And I just left you to be all by yourself

And now I wish I had seen that you weren't doing well

But I just came back to see how hard you fell

I raised my arm, grabbing onto Noah’s hand, feeling my breath hasten as an immense amount of emotions washed over me. Here I was, being sung to, in front of thousands of people- yet it felt like it was just me and Noah.

His words were for me, and my heart raced, pounding out of my chest as we gazed at each other. He squeezed my hand before letting go, making his way down the rest of the stage.

There was a short intermission, and I felt my phone buzz.

Checking it, I noticed Noah texted.

‘Don’t forget what I said.’

I chuckled, shaking my head as I responded.

‘I’ll be there you dork. You guys sound fucking amazing, you’re killing it.’

Seconds later, Noah responded.

‘Don’t take your eyes off me for this next one.’

My breath hitched in my throat, and the lights dimmed inside the venue again, before the bass began, introducing The Death of Peace of Mind.

My mind began to race again, and as Noah stepped onto the stage, his eyes immediately latched onto me.

I made another mistake, thought I could change

Thought I could make it out

Promises break, need to hear you say

You're gonna keep it now

I miss the way you say my name

The way you bend, the way you break

Your makeup running down your face

The way you touch, the way you taste

When the curtains call the time

Will we both go home alive?

It wasn't hard to realize

Love's the death of peace of mind

You're in the walls that I made with crosses and frames

Hanging upside down

For granted, in vain, I took everything

I ever cared about

Noah never broke eye contact during the entire song. Despite walking across the entire stage, his eyes never left mine- and I refused to let mine leave his.

I miss the way you say my name

The way you bend, the way you break

Your makeup running down your face

The way you fuck, the way you taste

Noah ‘Look at me’ Sebastian let his fingers flow to his lips, taking the shape of a V as he licked between them, the crowd going ballistic. I felt my own stomach begin to churn.

You come and go in waves

Leaving me in your wake

You come and go in waves

Swallowing everything

Are you satisfied?

The crowd screamed again, and once the song finished the introduction to Dethrone began. I motioned over the security, who helped me crawl over the barrier and escorted me away from the crowd. As I headed up the stage and walked behind the curtain, I watched the side view of the performance, the boys thrashing out their last song of the night, all energy put into this song.

Here am I, take me to the pearly gates

So I can look you in the eye when I spit in your face

Here am I, take me to the pearly gates

Don't let 'em hit you on the way out when I take your place

As soon as the song finished they walked off stage, the crowd screaming behind them. All the boys smiled as they passed me, nodding sweatily. Noah on the other hand immediately grabbed me, kissing me firmly.

“Good fucking girl.” He said, smiling as his chest heaved with exhaustion. My face blushed again, especially knowing everyone around us heard his praise.

The crowd was screaming behind us again, and the boys had two minutes to compose themselves before going out to wave and bow. I waited patiently, watching them run out and smile with gratitude at the fans below them, throwing an assortment of picks and guitar sticks.

After a few minutes, the boys came back, and before I could say anything Noah instantly grabbed my wrist, pulling me along with him.

“Where are we going?” I asked, confused, but my insides bubbled with excitement.

“I want you in all the ways you’ll let me have you,” Noah muttered through gritted teeth, sending my heart into a frenzy of nerves. He tugged me through the halls, before finding a door, shoving me into the room.

It appeared to be a smaller version of a green room, the only things inside being a washroom and a couch. Almost like it was placed here just for us.

Locking the door swiftly behind him, Noah led me to the black letter couch sitting down, pulling me onto his lap.

I straddled him, his hands working their way underneath my skirt, gripping at the now-exposed skin.

“You didn’t wear shorts?” Noah moaned, almost instantly hardening at the realization. His tattooed hands ran along the back of my thighs, squeezing periodically, bringing his lips into my neck, biting at the skin gently.

“Do I turn you on that much?” I breathed hastily, closing my eyes, enjoying Noah’s worship over my body. He was fully indulging in me, taking every moment for himself.

“You don’t even fucking know,” he whispered, tugging the shirt off of my body, letting his lips trail across my shoulders, “the only thought I’ve had lately is what it would be like getting to eat you out after performing.”

I smiled at his words, closing my eyes as his lips trailed along my torso, my hips beginning to grind into his. “Are we— are we really going to do this here?”

Noah hummed in response, squeezing me to symbolize a yes.

“Let’s make your thoughts a reality then?” I whispered, and Noah’s eyes leered at me, completely insatiable with hunger.

His hands roamed across my body, and as I rotated on top of him, digging my core into his own, he let out a low groan, body thrusting upwards, slowly.

Noah’s hands pulled away my underwear, leaving me fully exposed underneath my skirt. “God I love the idea of you having nothing on underneath this, such easy access.”

I heard voices passing down the hall, and my head snapped towards the door, chest pounding.

“Th-There are people outside this door—” I said, pushing off Noah slightly, but his inked arms wrapped around me, pulling me back.

“Well, this isn’t about them, is it?” Noah said, chuckling lowly, “Just sit on my fucking face already.” 

Noah stayed sitting, but pushed himself deeper into the couch as I crawled up, allowing myself to be right above him, almost hanging over the couch; his breath left a cooling sensation on my skin, and I shuddered in anticipation.

“Spread your legs for me,” Noah demanded, pulling at my thighs.

“Spread them wider,” he said, and I tried, splitting myself completely for his need.

“Noah, please,” I whimpered, my body soaking for him, yet dreaded not being touched.

“Look at you,” he tskd, letting his long fingers rub along my folds, “coming undone before I’ve even started touching you.” 

“Please,” I whispered ever so lightly, gripping into the back of the couch.

Noah’s fingers danced around my skin for a moment longer before he explored my body, inviting himself into my space and causing my thighs to desire to squeeze shut; but Noah held a firm grip, forcing me against his mouth. His tongue circulated me, before he sucked, moaning against my sensitive skin.

“Jesus Christ, I love the way you taste,” Noah slapped my behind, squeezing so hard I knew there would be a mark. I winced at the impact, but my body began to convulse against his lips as he assaulted me where I needed him most.

“F-Fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna last long if you keep doing that,” I moaned, rolling myself into his skin, trying to create more friction for my need. One of Noah’s hands left my skin, trailing down towards his cargo pants as he freed himself, and began to touch his own body.

“I want you to fuck me so bad Noah,” I cried, pushing into him desperately as I watched him pleasure his own impulse, slim fingers cascading through his heat.

“You’ll get that once we get home.” He said, panting from beneath me, “I want you to come all over my face.”

My mouth hung open as my orgasm built, ears began to ring. I let out a moan way louder than intended, causing Noah to begin to thrust into his hips, his body twitching with complete craving. His breathing quickened and I felt him struggle against me as I cried out, pushing against him one final time as I came undone, and Noah released all over his taped hand, rubbing out his own desire.

I panted, pulling myself off of his face and down into his lap, sitting on his mess.

“Imagine how amazing you’ll sound when I’m fucking you senseless.” Noah’s eyes were closed as he smiled and tilted his head back in satisfaction, out of breath.

After a moment I pulled him into a kiss, and we whispered praises against one another’s lips, which was met with gentle moans. 

“I love getting to know you like this.” He sighed, pulling back to look at me as we heaved together, exhausted.

I smiled at him, pressing my forehead against his own, appreciating what Noah and I had begun to build amongst our friendship.

I kissed him again, softly, my body flushing with heat again, “Will you let me ride you when we get back?”

Noah’s deep October eyes opened with lust, staring me down once again with an immense amount of need. “Only if you moan my name for everyone to hear.”

Oh god help me

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Jealousy looks hot on you (Hannibal)

Description: Hannibal gets jealous after Mason flirts with Y/N.

Warning: Smut

Word Count:939

Request:

Hi,

I absolutely love your one shots/writing style! ❤️

Could you please write a fanfic where the reader is Hannibal‘s secretary and he get‘s jealous after seeing a patient ( bonus point if it‘s mason or franklyn) flirting with her. He has a talk with her ( with smut in the end if possible) and starts confessing. Thank you for considering

Hi,

could you write a jealous Hannibal with a secretary reader? Mason or Franklyn started flirting with the reader and she seemed flattered (to Hannibal), which is why he get‘s jealous (they are not in a realtionship yet). He at first just wants to talk about it, but then snaps (smut in the end?).

Author’s note: I combined two requests for this one. Also thank you so much anon!!! I’m working on a Patrick Zweig request for tomorrow. Send in requests!

Being Hannibal’s Secretary was a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because Hannibal was a great lover. Oh and the man cooks! The curse was the unprofessional work relationships and the jealousy. Hannibal would need to get work done and instead by fucking Y/N on the desk minutes before a patient of his was suppose to be there.

His jealousy was unhealthy, they weren’t even together and yet he acts like they are. Y/N thinks that it’s just sex but Hannibal was in love with her. How could he not be? Y/N has been there for him through everything and even in the situation right now with Mason, she was here. Mason was odd to say the least. He definitely wasn’t okay in the head and he was about to be more fucked after Hannibal got him alone. Hannibal glared as he talked with Y/N. Well to Hannibal it was flirting and oh did Y/N look into it.

Mason was a rat and even looked like one too. How the fuck was Y/N okay with this? He watched as Y/N laughed at whatever Mason said. He wasn’t a funny guy, he was a creep. Hannibal bit his lip as he thought of a hundred different ways to kill the man. The smile Y/N had didn’t reach her all the way but reached enough to make Hannibal mad. What pushed him over the edge was when Mason reached out to touch her. Within seconds Mason was pinned to the wall. Hannibal was breathing heavy and his grip on Mason was tight. Mason didn’t look freaked out and had a smirk. “Hannibal, what the fuck?” Y/N asked.

He looked back at her and saw her scared expression. He let go of Mason and turned to her. “I need to talk to you.” He tells her. She looked at Mason and back at him. “Apologize to him first.” She said softly. He wanted to roll his eyes but fought against it. She really had no idea what kind of monster he was. “I’m sorry Mason.” He said but his voice gave no emotion. “I’m thinking that could have sounded more sincere.” Mason says but Hannibal pulls Y/N away. 

“You can’t be with him Y/N.” Was the first words that left his mouth once they were outside Mason’s house. She looked at him confused. “What?” She asked. “He’s not a good guy. You deserve better. He’s crazy and I-“ “Jeez Hannibal I’m not into Mason.” She exclaimed. He nodded and gave her a smile. “Very well then. We should get back to my office.” He said and she nodded and walked to the car. 

After a few drinks in his office the two were stripped off their clothes with Y/N in Hannibal’s lap as they made out in his chair. His hands moved up and down her back as her hands were placed on his shoulders so she could deepen the kiss. They barely pulled away to breathe. His hands went down to her ass and squeezed causing her to moan in his mouth.

He slipped his tongue in her mouth as they sloppily kissed. “Hannibal.” She pulled away from the kiss. “What?” He asked huskily as he ran a hand through her hair. “Why did you care that Mason was flirting with me?” “He’s a bad man Y/N.” “No Hannibal there’s more that you aren’t saying.” He looks down, his hand dropping. “I uh-“ she kisses him softly. “Tell me.” “I’m in love with you Y/N.” He tells her and cups her face. She looks at him and kisses him hard. “Take me to your bed Hannibal.” She said against his lips. 

She looks down at him as she slowly slides down on his dick. It wasn’t the first time but it was the first time that it was out of love. He looked back up at her and his brows furrowed a little as she took him in. She let out a shutter breath as she took him in fully. “You’re so beautiful.” He tells her as he places his hands on her hips. She sighs in pleasure as she starts moving her hips.

This time it feels different for them. The feeling was better and more intense. She shuts her eyes as she feels the pleasure coursing through her. Her hips moved deep and slow. Hannibal closed his eyes as well. As her hips moved his hands tightened their grip on her hips. She moans at the feeling causing him to open his eyes. Her head was back and her mouth was open.

Her hips were now picking up speed no long slow and deep. “Fuck.” He groaned as he felt her clenching around him. His bed was squeaking with each of her thrusts. “Hanni.” She moaned and looked down at him. She grabbed one of his hands and moved it to her boob. He squeezed it causing her to gasp.

His other hand moved to her clit and rubbed. She whined his name as she felt her high near. He groaned as he felt himself twitch inside of her. She grabbed the hand that was placed on her boob. Her hand squeezed his as she came with a scream of his name.

He grunted as he came right after her. Both of them moaning as she rode out their highs. She smiled as she collapsed next to him. Both of them were breathing hard and all sweaty. “Hannibal?” “Mhm.” “I love you too.” She said and turned towards him. “Oh and jealousy looks good on you.” She said and he gave her a side eye but smiled.

[freakspectors]

HELUVAKINKTOBER: DAY 2 - ROLEPLAY.

A Fyodor Dostoyevsky | BSD x Female Reader Smut Fanfic.

warnings ; smut , roleplay , dacryphilia , sex toys, pussy slapping , pwp/plot what plot , religious themes , cunnilingus , mean fyodor :( , reader is implied to be chubby , reader's role is an angel , fedya is just ... fedya , not proofread , etc .

author's note ; HIHI!!! day two and i was already almost behind.. i've been writing all day to get this done , and i still couldn't finish it all in time so I left it on a cliffhanger. i swear, i'll give you all the part two of this some other time .. but for now , take this. enjoy !

p.s - this is the longest fic on my acc as of currently. ily fyodor ...

heluvakinktober 2023 m.list .

You sit on a lavish bed in a dimly lit bedroom, the lights bright just enough to see your unpigmented lingerie underneath the thin, translucent satin nightgown you wore. The undergarments had intricate weavings, each pattern having meticulous designs with folded white wings sewn into them. To top it off, a headband-bound spring hung up the pastel yellow halo on your head; completing the ‘angel’ look that Fyodor worked so hard to put together for you.

As if your thoughts had cued him in, the sound of a door creaking open filled the otherwise silent room; a chuckle belonging to no one but the man you loved ringing in your ears. Clutching the fabric of the comforter, you watch as the demon shuts and locks your only exit, turning to you with a smile of mischief.

“My, what a sight for sore eyes,” he says, strolling towards your nervous figure. “Such a magnificent, holy woman. Might I ask why you’ve fallen from the heavens to speak with me?”

Fyodor crawls onto the bed and places his hands on your shoulders. He was as cold as a glacier, anemia working everything but wonders on his lankier frame. You, however, were plump. You felt warmer than a fireplace with personality that could light up an entire room. ‘A star brought down from the celestials’, Fyodor would say. 

“Are you here to tell me how I’m far from free of sin? Or perhaps..” the Russian murmured, his accent rolling off of his tongue deliciously, “you’re here for conversion.”

Fyodor runs his hands down your body, stopping as he reaches your plush thighs. After giving them a light squeeze, the rat brings his left hand up to your chin, turning your head to face him. “Which is it, моя любовь? Do you wish to spread the ‘lord’s’ faith, or listen to mine?”

 You quickly exhale, regaining your composure. “I can’t even fathom the idea of a simple man being able to strip me of the lord’s hands. I’m intrigued, mortal. Do tell.”

“Excellent,” the Rat mumbles, gently kissing your soft lips. He handled your body as if you were a glass figure that he was instructed to handle with care. Fyodor’s icy hands caressed your skin, leaving goosebumps with every touch.

Toying with the hem of the nightgown, Fyodor stares up at you with feigned innocent eyes. “Oh, great one, may I please witness your purity in its entirety?”

“Yes. You have proven yourself worthy, my child.”

“Thank you. I will not put your acts of kindness in vain,” Fyodor mumbled. The Russian leisurely raises your garment over your head, stripping you down to the lingerie you wore. He felt his mouth water at the mere sight of your body, taking in every curve and crevice of your form. “Ты великолепна, любовь моя. I could simply devour you.”

And devour you he did. Fyodor crashed his lips onto yours, his kisses quick and feverish as if he was being timed. Not pulling away from you, the Rat maneuvers himself on top of your curvy figure, laying you down. His lips trail down your body, starting from your cheek and briskly moving down south. Fyodor stops at your lower abdomen, gently kissing your navel.

“Oh, how I wish to spill my seed into you. Perhaps our child would be pure, much unlike all of mankind,” the Demon whispered, resuming his journey down your body. Sighing in content, Fyodor stared at your damp, sticky panties, the fabric clinging to your pussy. “Мой ангел, perhaps you aren’t as innocent as you so claim. Такой мокрый без причины.”

You stifle a moan as Fyodor runs a finger down your clothed cunt, planting sloppy, open mouth kisses on your inner thighs. Once he reaches your dripping core, he smiles, then turns to kiss up the other limb. Desperacy boils within you, pathetic whines becoming flat out wimpish as he takes his sweet time, nipping and licking at the soft flesh. 

“Patience, Dear. Patience,” the Russian says, chastising you. You couldn’t seem to tell, though, His voice was too sweet to decipher his intentions — something you despised about him. “Is a man not allowed to eat before he drinks?”

“Yes, wise one, of course,” you whimper, biting your lower lip to calm yourself down, “but please, get to your preaching.”

“Right away, O great one.”

Not a moment after, Fyodor licks a long stripe up your clothed pussy, his tongue flat on your clit. Your body jolts, hips involuntarily bucking towards his face. Chuckling, Fyodor peels your panties to the side, spreading you open with his middle and index fingers.

“You see, мой дорогой, in my eyes, not one soul is free of sin. Not even one as holy as yours,” he says matter-of-factly. Fyodor slowly flicks his tongue up and down your hole, just the tip of the appendage slipping inside of you. His pace was agonizing. There was so much you wanted to do to get him to speed up; but you couldn’t act out of character. Who knew what punishment would await you?

“Whatever do you mean, mortal?” you ask through clenched teeth, watching as he ate you out, “such a snide remark shall have you exiled from the eyes of God. I recommend you explain yourself.”

“Need I explain? My statement will remain true, Darling. I plan on proving it to you like..” He trails off, landing one last sluggish stripe up your cunt, stopping right where your clit was. His laugh was impish, a smile full of ill intent pairing with it. He planned to wreck you.

“This.”

His lips immediately latched onto your clit, sucking the button of flesh and yanking a noisy moan from your throat; halo bobbing as you threw your head back. Fyodor’s eyes never seemed to leave you; watching each move your body made because of his tongue.

“Если бы ты только мог увидеть себя…” the Demon slurred. Lewd, sticky slurps emitted from between your legs, slick and saliva briskly coating your thighs and Fyodor’s pale face. The sound of the headboard punching on the wall partially brought you out of your daze, staring back down at Fyodor to see him humping the mattress at a tempo matching the strokes of his tongue.

His mouth disappeared from your clit, only for his rough fingers to replace it. They rub and flick the nub with fervor, yet it’s far from overdone. It’s fast enough to give you immense pleasure; to send you over the edge. If Fyodor was kind, he would’ve let you cum on his fingers — but what’s the use in discussing the “If”s? He’s not. He lives up to his alias, he truly is a monster.

“That’s more than enough, don’t you think, милый?” Fyodor asks. He shoots you a smile, pulling himself away from your body entirely. You shake your head no, pleas and cries of continuation falling from your lips. The Russian’s grin flattens into a stoic, upset expression, and before you know it, a harsh slap is landed on your cunt. Sobs of pain and pleasure escape your throat, your voice hitching. “Keep in character, кукла.”

You choke on tears, a lump forming in your throat. Fyodor brings two digits to your vagina, running them between your folds as if easing out the sting. The kind gesture was a simple facade, as his arm rears back and smacks you right on your sensitive clit. You yelp, hurrying with your pained reply, “Y-Yes.. Indeed. Please, move on with f-further ministries..” 

“So hungry for more.. Is the conversion working, малыш?” the Monster chuckled, getting off of your shared bed to open the drawer of his nightstand. A long, purple dildo rests in his palm as he shuts the dresser and sits behind you. He kisses your tear stained left cheek, a small token of reassurance. 

Fyodor pulls you closer to his chest, hands wandering across your body. He gives you a few seconds to recover, then slides his thumb through the band of your underwear, inaudibly asking — no; telling you to raise your hips so he could yank them down.

Of course, you oblige. Fyodor hums, placing the soaked garment to the side for.. ‘later use’. The raven haired man brings the dildo to your tight, wet pussy, running it down your slit. “You’re simply too precious for me, a sinner, to fuck in such a grotesque manner. Won’t you let me drag you down to reality and make you absolutely braindead on this simple object?”

You gulp, wiping your tears from your hot cheeks. “Yes, yes you may. S-Show me how it feels to sin..”

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

[festivalsofmargot]

Selfless {Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: Follow up to Pretty Thoughts. (I tried to write in a way you could follow what’s going on without needing to read the last part though, so jump in if you’d like!) Sebastian isn’t waiting for your permission to help you with your assignments anymore. He knows what he wants, and he’s going after it. Takes place after MC meets Anne and before Seb’s final quest. Your Hogwarts house is up to you.

Word Count: ~ 1,700

Warnings: Kissing

Author’s Note: If he wanted to, he would is the fanfic lesson of the day. This one’s a bit shorter than my others, but I feel like so much more happened! I finished up this one quicker than I thought, so I’m going to be sneaky and edit here and there if I see any typos (my worst nightmare). Hope everyone’s having a good day 🙂

Songs (if interested):

Run Away to Mars - TALK

Greek Tragedy - The Wombats

Mr. Rager - Kid Cudi

The World - TeZATalks

Sebastian was lounging on a couch in the Slytherin common room, one hand behind his head, the other rubbing at his lips. He was trying to remember the feel of your mouth on his when you had kissed him in the library. He knew a memory wasn’t the most reliable thing, but he could have sworn he felt your tongue at one point. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance remembering the part where the two of you had to pull apart because you heard Madam Scribner approaching.

He was going to try to get another kiss in after the two of you would have left the library together. But something shifted in your mood and you ran off without him. He had been confuzzled about it ever since. It couldn’t have been that he was a bad kisser, he didn’t think the two of you would have stopped if you didn’t have to worry about getting caught.

He had tried to catch you before you left the castle that morning, but you were nowhere to be found. He was learning fast that it wasn’t going to be easy making you his. He needed to step it up, because you were a slippery one. Just when he thought he had you in the palm of his hand, you were gone.

He decided to stop moping and take action. He shot up off the couch and went to find a few people who he was thankful were easier to find.

-

When Sebastian arrived back on campus, he was covered in scrapes and bruises, and he absolutely reeked of dirt and sweat. Merlin’s beard, was this what you did nearly every day? He needed to toughen up if he wanted to keep up with you. 

After going to find Poppy and Natty, he had asked them about everything they had planned on helping you with. He told them he would take over, lying and saying he had similar assignments. He built up quite the list: Horklumps that could only be found in caves filled with ginormous spiders, ashwinder eggs he had to find hiking in the rockiest of places, and even bogeys he had managed to knock out a troll for. The professors had no hesitancy throwing you in the deep end, did they?

He was almost worried he bit off more than he could chew, but he had managed to complete the list, making the fatigue he felt oddly satisfying.

Despite being aware of his untidy state, he headed towards the dining hall. He thanked his lucky stars he had made it back before dinner time ended. He needed to get food in him or he would faint.

A majority of the students were gone, having already gotten their fill. He began making his way to find a seat, enchanted bag in hand. But among the few students left in the dining hall, he caught sight of you. Luck was officially on his side that day, he didn’t think he would have found you at all that weekend. He headed your way, wanting to walk faster but the soreness in his legs wouldn’t allow him. 

He plopped the bag on the table, startling you. He didn’t wait for you to say anything and slumped down in the empty spot next to you, too tired to lift his legs over the bench. He leaned his elbows back on the table and let his head fall back.

After allowing himself a brief moment to finally do nothing but sit that day, he met your questioning gaze and he gestured to the bag with his chin. “Hope this helps.”

You squinted your eyes at him, trying to work out what he was talking about. 

“Go on. Open it.”

You grabbed the bag and peeked inside. It didn’t take long for you to realize it had a charm to fit what looked like a dozen large jars. Getting a closer look, you realized they were full of items you needed for your latest assignments.

“Sebastian...” A proud smile tugged at his lips at the pleasant surprise in your voice. He leaned his head back again, another wave of exhaustion hitting him.

“I told you I wanted to help you.”

“This is... amazing. I -...” You were at a loss for words, shaking your head in disbelief. “I owe you, Sebastian. Please, let me know how I can repay you.”

He glanced back at you, raising a brow. “What are you going on about? You don’t owe me a thing.”

Something warm and fuzzy formed in your chest. This was not the Sebastian you first met. What ever happened to the Slytherin who was so eager to have people in his debt?

“Then why would you - …?”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” He smirked.

You looked back down into the bag, hiding the smirk of your own that formed. “Please do.”

He loosely took your hand in his. He would have grabbed it with a firmer hold if he could, but his forearms were aching too much. “You make me nervous too.”

You looked up to return his gaze and your heart fluttered. 

“I’d do anything you’d ask of me.” The way he said it while looking deep into your eyes, as if he needed you to understand he meant it, made you want to melt. He gave your hand a quick squeeze. “Please don’t run off.”

Finding your voice, you assured with a whisper, “I won’t.” You squeezed his hand back.

He smiled, relief overwhelming him. “Now that we’ve got that settled,” he gave your hand a quick kiss. Releasing it, he swung his legs over the bench to face the mouth watering platters. “I hate to ask, but could you help me get some of the food onto my plate. I think my arms are going to fall off.”

The two of you laughed and you happily obliged.

-

“Food really does taste better after a day like this.” Sebastian sighed, dreamily thinking back on how the first bite of many had made him want to cry.

“It does. I don’t know how I’ll survive when we don’t have Hogwarts cooking to come home to.” You replied as the two of you made your way to the Slytherin common room. You were going to drop him off and then head out to do your astronomy assignment. Once again, Sebastian had offered to come with, but seeing how he was practically asleep on his feet, you pleaded for him to get washed up and straight to bed.

Standing outside of the Slytherin common room, Sebastian let out a long exhale, thinking about how close to his bed he was. Oh how he wanted to collapse onto it. He looked to you. “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

“You will.” You smiled at him.

He smiled back and turned to make his way into the common room.

“Sebastian, wait.” You grabbed for his hand with the gentlest touch. He stopped walking and faced you again.

“Yes?”

“I know you’re tired, but...” You drifted off as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. 

Though he was exhausted, he mustered up all the energy he could to kiss you back, hoping he would catch some kind of a second wind. 

He tasted earthy and salty from the dirt and sweat that covered him. The hand that cupped your neck felt extra rough and callused then, but you didn’t care. Thinking about everything he had done for you that day, you wanted more of him. Your tongue just barely licked his bottom lip and it sent a shiver up his spine.

Truth be told, you always went a little mad when he was disheveled and sweaty like this. Whenever he needed to take off his robes and roll up his sleeves, it made you weak. He especially caught your eye after dueling matches, he would be worn out with clothes and hair disordered. You always ached to stroke his hair back into place.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. He reciprocated by wrapping his arms around your lower back. He wanted to lift you off the ground but his muscles painfully screamed in protest. So he settled for just biting at your bottom lip instead, eliciting a light moan from you.

You weren’t masters of kissing yet. Still learning the ropes, the two of you could only do what felt right in the moment, be it little nips or licks here and there. Neither of you seemed to mind, however.

The echoing sounds of students chattering and making their way down the stairs stopped your kiss. He sighed into your neck, still holding you close. “We need to find better places to do this.” And with one final kiss to your jaw he pulled away.

“Probably for the best, you need to get some rest.” You told him, straightening your shirt.

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” His eyelids were heavy, and you thought it was the most precious you’d ever seen him. 

“You’re adorable.” You told him with a cheeky smile you couldn’t hide.

“Oh, please never call me that again.” He rubbed roughly at his eyes, too sleepy to be that annoyed with your words.

You took subtle glances to see if anyone around you was looking your way. When you felt you were in the clear, you snuck a peck to his cheek, surprising him. “See you at breakfast.” And off you went.

He watched after you. You gave him quite the reward for his actions that day, he ought to do stuff like this more often.

Someone behind him gagged. “My word!” Sebastian, startled, turned to see Ominis with a face contorted in pure disgust. “You smell putrid!”

Sebastian could only nod in agreement. “I’m aware. Now, help me into the common room, will you? I think I’m about to collapse.”

Ominis scoffed “I am going nowhere near you.” He began towards the common room without him.

“Ominis, please, I’m not joking.”

[ninjadeathblade]

Nachos (a Nimona fanfic)

Summary: Nimona tags along on Ballister's nacho date with Ambrosius (set post-movie)

Warnings: A couple swears and that's about it

Word count: 1,050

Fluff with a tiny bit of angst

Author notes: Thanks you to @skating-is-cool for scheming with me on my other post about this. I didn't put loads of effort into this if I'm honest but I let the boys finally have their nachos together.

"You promise to behave?" Ballister asked nervously, refusing to go inside until Nimona agreed. The shapeshifter had been begging to come along with him to his date with Ambrosius. Ballister had reluctantly agreed, knowing that if he'd told her no she would've snuck along anyway. Nimona shrugged, rocking back and forth on her heels.

"I dunno. Maybe." She shot him a grin full of fangs, almost falling over before catching her balance again and leaning forward onto her tiptoes.

"Nimona, please," Ballister sighed, exasperation clawing at the inside of his skull as he brought a hand to his face to rub across his eyes. "This is the first time since…everything that me and Ambrosius have actually been able to go on a date." Ballister struggled to articulate it to her. Mentally, he understood that Nimona was over a thousand years old and had probably seen many people be in love. But he also had latched onto her as some kind of younger sibling or daughter to him, which meant he had to explain everything. "Because we've left the army now, I don't have to hide who I am as much. You should understand that."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Nimona replied, flashing him another smile. "C'mon then, let's go see your boyfriend." Ballister made to grab her shoulder before she headed into the bar but she weaved away from him, slipping through the door into the bar. Ballister gritted his teeth before following Nimona, a certain air of anxiety around him. He knew that Ambrosius still loved him, that hadn't changed. But would it be awkward? The last time they were here Ambrosius was trying to convince him to kill Nimona. Ballister mulled over his thoughts as he followed Nimona through the bar, not paying much attention to his surroundings.

"Hey handsome." Ballister jerked out of his thoughts at Ambrosius' voice, looking down at his lover. Ambrosius smiled softly up at him, moving over in the booth seat to make room for him. Ballister shot him a shy smile in return, sitting down beside him while Nimona took the seat across from him.

"You're sure you don't mind she's here?" Ballister whispered, resting his head on Ambrosius' shoulder.

"She's family, it's not like she wouldn't be here," Ambrosius responded, pressing a light kiss to the top of Ballister's head. Ballister closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of safety. It hadn't been long since the queen had died but it felt like years of being on edge constantly.

"You know I can hear you two, right?" Nimona butted into the conversation and Ballister opened his eyes again, regarding her with a deadpan stare.

"You know you could let us be romantic together every now and then?" He retorted, earning a snort of laughter from Ambrosius. Nimona stuck her tongue out at him before turning her attention to something over his shoulder. She transformed into a mouse, scuttling across the table.

"Be back soon." Ballister sighed with relief, visibly sagging in his seat. As much as he loved Nimona, it did feel more than a little weird having her third-wheeling on his date. After all, she was like a daughter to him. And although he wanted to spend time with her, it felt strange to have her on his date with Ambrosius.

"May I get you anything sirs?" A waitress appeared almost out of thin air beside them.

"Nachos," the two of them said in unison.

"No olives. He's allergic," Ballister added, jerking a thumb at Ambrosius. The waitress nodded, walking away.

"You always have to specify, don't you?" Ambrosius teased, playfully poking Ballister in the side. Ballister laughed quietly, wrapping his prosthetic arm around Ambrosius' waist.

"I can't have you dying. Who would continue the Gloreth bloodline?" Ballister joked with a gentle squeeze to Ambrosius' hip. Ambrosius practically doubled over with laughter, banging his fist on the table a couple of times.

"Shit, Bal, you think I'd actually continue the bloodline?" Ambrosius questioned, eyes slightly teary from laughter as he looked up at Ballister. "The closest thing to a child that anyone is getting from me is Nimona. We are adopting her, right? I mean, I get she's technically older than us but she's still a child, you know?" Ballister placed a gentle kiss against Ambrosius' cheek.

"Yeah, if she's fine with it. I haven't asked her yet," Ballister told him, withdrawing his hand from its position around his lover, fidgeting with his hands under the table. The two of them fell into silence, something that had rarely happened in the time they'd known one another. The waitress returned, placing their bowls of nachos on the table and Ballister didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry." Ambrosius broke the silence. Ballister glanced towards him, noticing the tear tracks down his cheeks. He was honestly unsure if they were from laughter or not. "I'm so sorry I didn't trust you. Or Nimona." Ballister placed his hand over Ambrosius', the dark metal contrasting against his light skin. "I didn't even try to listen to you when you explained."

"It's not your fault," Ballister assured him.

"But it is. If I'd listened, if I'd tried to help then maybe it wouldn't have turned out this way." Ambrosius skimmed his thumb across the back of Ballister's hand. "If I could then I'd change it all." Ballister brushed the tears away from Ambrosius' eyes, turning in his seat to face him.

"But if that happened then we wouldn't have our family," Ballister pointed out, pulling Ambrosius into a hug. The two of them sat there in the booth for a while, feeling grateful that despite everything they still had one another.

"These nachos are delicious, I see why you both keep coming back here." Ballister pulled away from Ambrosius slightly, glaring at Nimona. She was lying slightly across the other side of the booth, a bowl of nachos in her hands as she ate some of them.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ballister swore. "Can you not see we're having a moment?"

"Yes. And I'm having nachos," Nimona replied, biting into another one. Ambrosius pressed a kiss against Ballister's temple.

"Leave her be. It's fine," Ambrosius said. Ballister smiled softly, pulling the second bowl of nachos towards him and his love.

"Yeah. It couldn't be better."

[bakugosatoru]

You and Bakugo adopt a kitten together

Requests Open!

Warnings: None Genre: Romantic Fluff Fic Type: Short Fanfic (1k Words) Fandom: My Hero Academia

Authors Note: I actually work at pet store and thought about this story in my head while working so now I shall share it with all of you.

"I still dont understand why we couldnt get a big dog" grumbled Bakugo, as you wandered the rows of cages full of all myriad of rescued dogs and cats.

"I don't know, maybe because our apartment lease very clearly states 'no dogs'? Besides, it wouldn't be fair honey, our apartment isn't exactly a penthouse, and with how much you and I are away with work? Poor thing would go crazy" You calmly explained for the hundredth time to your moping boyfriend.

It was his own fault, he had let his guard down. About a week ago you were both lying on the couch after a long mission and an ad came on the television about a rescue shelter near your apartment that had animals looking for their forever home.

"You know it could be fun to have a kitty, I had one growing up" You mumbled, cuddling up into your boyfriend on the couch.

"Oh? Yea sure honey" He mumbled, clearly a little too tired to be fully paying attention.

But that was all the confirmation you needed.

So here you were, walking the rows of dog and cats, looking for the new perfect addition to your little family. Your eyes scanned the various kittens in the various enclosures and you felt your heart melt, you just wanted to take them all home. But no, Katsuki made you promise you were only getting one on the drive here.

Finally you reached the room at the end of the hall. The shelter had placed the kitties that were up for adoption into the room for prospective families to take a look at, so you and Katsuki slipped through the two doors (to prevent any kitty escapees) and into a room full of fluffy balls of joy.

"Babe there's so many! Look how cute!" You beamed, stepping towards a small ribbon toy and picking it up, four or five kitties flocking to your feet as you swirled it around.

Katsuki just smiled as he stood back, watching you spin around, the kittens running after you. He wandered over to the bench on end of the room and sat down. You were the one that wanted the stupid cat after all, he was happy to just let you pick. But he couldn't help but smile at your excited squeals as the kitties clambered all over you.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp sensation in his leg. He looked down to see two small kittens, quite a lot smaller than the rest, clawing their way up his pant leg.

"Dumb cats, what are you doing? Your going to put holes in my pants you know!" He grumbled, with no real malice in his voice, as the two small kittens curled up into his lap. His hands hovered over the small creatures, not exactly sure what to do with them.

Gentle had never exactly been his forté

"Aw Katsuki honey, they like you!"

Bakugo looked up to see you walking over, that gorgeous smile on your face that always made him melt.

God you were too good for him.

"Dumb idiots just crawled up my pant leg and sat here, probably just think i'm a warm bed" He grumbled as you sat down next to him. You rested your head on his shoulders and you reached out and began to softly stroke the head of one of the kittens. A quiet purring radiating from it. Katsuki slowly lowered his hand to the other kitten, being as gentle as possible, using his fingers to scratch its head and around its ears. Soon enough, that kitten joined his friend in purring.

"That means they're happy right?" Bakugo mumbled

"Mhm" You smiled, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. There was nothing you loved more than seeing your loud, strong, and sometimes rough around the edges boyfriend turn into a gentle giant.

"I don't know how we're going to pick just one" You sighed, looking at the two kittens in your boyfriends lap. Bakugo paused for a second, before sighing.

"I know what your doing" He said, exasperated.

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean" You smirked

"Whatever, dumb idiot should have a friend or whatever." He grumbled, cradling both the kitties in his arm as he stood up to go find an employee to help with the paperwork.

"You mean it? We can get both?!" You leapt from the bench following your boyfriend and holding his free hand.

"Only if I get to name one of the dumb things" He grumbled, but he couldn't hide the smile curling at the side of his lips as he waved over the employee.

So after about an hour of paperwork, many thank you kisses, and a short ride home, you welcomed two new little fluffy creatures into your family.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bonus

"Babe you cannot name him Grenade" You laughed, cradling one of the kittens in your arms as you looked down at your boyfriend, sprawled out on the floor, playing with the other kitty.

"You said I could name one, that was the deal" He said, his smile evident in his voice.

"Come on! I named this little one Blossom!" You said, rolling yourself off the couch and onto the floor, allowing the two kitties to play together as you curled into Bakugo's side. His arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer.

"Hmmmm" He hummed, his chin resting against the top of your head.

"Explosion?"

"No"

"Murder"

"Absolutely not"

"Gunpowder kitty of death"

"Babe!" You laughed, wacking him in the arm with a cat toy that was laying on the ground.

"Well then, that settles it, Grenade it is" He said triumphantly, before turning your head slightly and catching your lips in a soft kiss.

"I love you dummy" You hummed as his lips parted from yours.

"I love you too babe, and our two new dumb cats" Bakugo sighed happily.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi team! I was wondering if you might have some recommendations for Aziraphale-centric fics? Not really looking for whump, or fics where his feelings for Crowley are his sole focus (though I'd still enjoy it if were a significant part of the story), but moreso fics that look at Aziraphale holistically. First fic that comes to mind as an example is "Angel-Centered Therapy Through A Multicultural Lens: An Integrative Approach" by Nnm. Thanks!

Hello! Here are some Aziraphale-centric fics for you...

Could you breathe with me? by Euny_Sloane (T)

Aziraphale goes to counseling/therapy with an unnamed therapist and spends some time exploring his feelings related to love, loss, and family. Note that this is an imagined counseling session, and so may bring up uncomfortable feelings, regardless of how many tags I place, especially if you have the unfortunately common experience of feeling unloved by your family, or unworthy of love. Nothing graphic happens except a reference to Pompeii, though.

In a Perfect World, I would Hold your Hand and Kiss your Cheek by boredom (T)

A chance encounter with a young man leads Aziraphale on the path of healing and discovery. Maybe now he can finally admit to what he wants, without guilt and without fear. Maybe now he and Crowley can finally move forward, together.

Human Labels, and Angelic Discovery by Hemlock_Holmes (G)

Aziraphale discovers autism, and goes on a one-angel mission to learn everything he can about it. This is a purely self-indulgent fic about discovering yourself after many years, because I am so tired of reading books (not fanfic!) where the word autism is skirted around and treated like taboo, even when everyone knows that's what the author means. Just say it people! Also because nothing gives me greater joy than watching Aziraphale stim.

something wretched about this by IvyOnTheHolodeck (T)

You might wonder why Aziraphale can't seem to enjoy his retirement in peace. You could ascribe his distress to the series of terrifying thoughts that haunt his days, or the only book he wishes he'd never read, or even the wound that still hurts after six thousand years. Really, though, you should blame the fact he's never learned to talk about his feelings.

The Other Arrangement: or, How the Angel Got so Hungry by burnttongueontea (T)

‘It’s just… funny. Don’t you think it would be funny, if it turned out we’d had it the wrong way round all these years? If I ate all the time, and you hardly ever?’ Crowley discovers that Aziraphale has been strictly and obsessively limiting his food intake for millennia, due to fear of punishment from Heaven if he gets caught eating too regularly. The angel’s confident facade comes apart at the seams after they move to the South Downs, as he struggles to cope with new-found freedom while still keeping his past a secret. With the future of their relationship soon hanging in the balance, Crowley must find a way to convince Aziraphale that he is a safe pair of hands to collapse into – and that they can rebuild things from the ground up.

My Favorite Ghost by cassieoh_draws, DiminishingReturns (T)

Decades after the world didn’t end, Heaven and Hell got their war — and nearly destroyed everything in the process. When Aziraphale finally manages to reacquire a corporation and return to Earth, he discovers he was gone longer than he thought and the planet has become unrecognizable. As he searches for Crowley and tries to figure out how he fits in a world that Heaven, Hell, and God have all wiped their hands of, nature works around him to reclaim the bones of an old civilization as the scraps of humanity build a new one. A lush and optimistic post-apocalypse story, told from the POV of an immortal who can't let go of the past.

And the one you mentioned...

Angel-Centered Therapy Through A Multicultural Lens: An Integrative Approach by Nnm (G)

“I’d love to meet with you,” Davey said, apologetically, when he had been called up by a fellow looking to initiate therapy, “but I’m all booked up for months.” “Are you sure?” The fellow said, through a poor connection that crackled. Davey had been sure. And yet. Right there in his calendar was a blank spot, just a few days away, which he had somehow completely overlooked before. “How about that…I’ve got Wednesday at eleven, if you can make that work.” “What a miracle,” the fellow said, “that would be just the perfect time.”

- Mod D

[beforeimdeceased]

⭒ HOUSE OF BALLOONS ⭒

synopsis: a party and a couple drinks has you making bad decisions. or are they good?

pairings: dina x reader, ellie x reader, abby x reader

content warnings: this is a reader’s choice fic. smut is included in all parts! mdni!

author’s note: i had this idea last night when i was thinking about dbh and lis and just how much i love choice games so i thought “what about a choice fanfic?” i’m not sure if this has ever been done on here before but i did look it up and couldn’t find anything so! PLEASE let me know what choice you end up picking!! feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

you did not want to be at this fucking party. little black dress hiking up your thighs as music blared over the speakers. everything was hot and sweaty and claustrophobic.

you’d only decided to come for your best friend dina, who had begged you for weeks to join her. it was house of balloons themed and she said she’d die if you missed it. so you caved in.

you found yourself hiding in the kitchen with a bad feeling in your stomach. that must mean either abby or ellie had arrived. ellie, the campus dealer, had played your heart one too many times. often luring you in with her aura and comforting smile, only to toss you when she saw someone prettier walk in the room.

you were tired of her fucking you and fucking with your feelings.

abby had done the same thing, often swooping in after ellie to comfort you. she’d kiss your tears away but when the sultry nights ended she’d act like she didn’t even know your name.

much to your dismay, your gut is correct, a very happy abby walks into the kitchen after you. she hesitates before joining you in the corner, playfully grabbing your phone out of your hand. “this little thing is going to make your life pass you by.”

“give it back, abby.” you huff, reaching for your device. she holds her hand up and it becomes impossible to reach. you shoot her a mean blow to the side but she doesn’t falter. it only makes her laugh. “you’re feisty tonight.” she says simply before checking your phone for the time.

you prepare to attempt to grab your phone again when you see ellie sit next to dina. you shoot abby a suggestive “we’re not done yet” glare before storming over to the two. “hey williams. i believe you have something that belongs to me?”

during your last very heated and very short makeout session at a party, not too different from this one, you’d misplaced your friendship bracelet. it was one that dina had made you herself. you were sure ellie had slipped it in her pocket as a keepsake and were too embarrassed at your actions to mention it again. a rush of adrenaline had rendered embarrassment useless right now.

“oh yeah that. we should talk about that. follow me out to the balcony?” she asks. before you can respond, dina grabs your hand.

“no i think she should stay here. right y/n?”

there’s a tension in the air. you look between them both, and then over your shoulder at the blonde taking pictures of herself on your phone.

stay with dina

go with ellie to the balcony

retrieve your phone from abby