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ugh-yoongi · 5 months

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a word from our sponsors | knj

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s cute.”

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

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

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

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

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

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

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And second of all?”

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

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

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

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

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

“—one should we start with?”

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

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

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

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

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

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

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

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

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

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

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

“No it’s not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

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

Namjoon rattles off a time.

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

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

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

“Haaa, that’s not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

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

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

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

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

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

It’s just—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You going out of town again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

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

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

“What?”

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

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

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

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

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

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

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

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

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

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

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

“What is this?”

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

“I can see that, but… why?”

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

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

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

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

“Oh my god?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About us.

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

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

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

“Can you not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

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

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

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

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

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a completely normal question.

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

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

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

You swallow. Hard.

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

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

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

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

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

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

Showtime.

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

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

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

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure? We can—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

It sounds like a challenge.

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

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

“Gummy bear?”

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

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

He continues:

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

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

It works. “No,” he scowls.

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

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

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

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

Then he reads—

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

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

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

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

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

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

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

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

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

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

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

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

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

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is very, very bad.

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

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

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

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

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

You do not get through recording unscathed.

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

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

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

The two of you had sex.

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

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

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

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

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

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

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

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

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

Today, he wears none of those things.

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t get any better.

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

Thirty-five minutes back home.

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

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

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

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

That’ll cure you.

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

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

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

Except—you’re not.

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

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are fucked beyond belief.

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

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

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

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

“I forgot them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

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

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

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

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

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

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

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

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

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

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

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

“Not with you, preferably.”

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

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

No fucking way.

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

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

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

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

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

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

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

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

“How weird?”

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

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

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

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

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

“Oh my god—”

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

“Oh my god?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

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

You want to fuck Namjoon.

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

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

And then someone knocks on your door.

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

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

“Uh, hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you’re the problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

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

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was that okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

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

It’s seamless.

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

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

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

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

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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chrollohearttags · 6 months

Text

UNDER THE INFLUENCE | e. jaeger

content + themes: our fav sluts being sluts, spit play, drunk sex, possessive eren, makeup sex if you squint, very vocal eren, he’s kinda a switch, oral sex, mentions of pregnancy/breeding, foot play, lots of praise, dirty talk, squirting, (daddy, princess, baby used) overstimulation..I mean, the ask says it all…there’s so much more though.

📝: shoutouts to you, anon. 🤞🏾🤍 (couldn’t find this in my inbox but I surely screenshotted it a while ago and decided to circle back!). Consider this my consolation for putting y’all through it. 😁

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰──── ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────

addiction. A word with negative connotations almost every time it was uttered. A word that signified the need, the craving and desire for one thing..for some, it was drugs. For others, it was alcohol and for EJ? It was you… “Mmph!—okayyy, Eren! Baby, please…at least let us get through the door.”

“Nah…need you so bad right now. ‘Don’t know what to do..” although, he wouldn’t exactly consider it a bad thing! After all, you drew him in and he never wanted you to release the grip that was your love. But just as it was with any vice, when someone faces withdrawals, their next hit was going to be the best one. And for Eren, he was determined to get his fill! Making your way back to the hotel room where you had been residing during you guys’ stay in Los Angeles. It wasn’t a city that either of you visited often but you had gotten quite the opportunity to work with a large brand and wasn’t about to turn it down for anything. Of course, your doting husband was right by your side. Which came as a surprise to those who were on social media, feeding into the never ending rumor mill that swore you guys were splitting up. Allegations of cheating, fighting…it had caused quite the rift between you two but now, he was planning to rectify any mistakes or confusion..

“C’mon, mama..don’t hold it from me right now. Lemme eat that pussy.” Pleading in a whiny huff, he’d steady you against the wall, hands scouring your frame as he peeled those articles of clothing away from your body. Sliding that silk dress down far enough to expose your perfect tits. His lips, fresh with the scent of liquor still on them. A result of the copious amounts he had been drinking all night. Once your appearance was over, a lively after party was hosted at a nightclub and you both indulged in the amenities offered..him a lot more than you! Hennessy, Ace of Spades and vodka, he had been mixing it all and with that combination coursing his veins, he was much more lecherous than usual. He’d suckle on those erect nipples, sloppily lapping at those brown buds as he groped your breasts. Meanwhile, he was rolling the hem of your dress up and propping one of those toned legs on his shoulder. He was ravenous..craving you with all he had and was going to show you just how much! “Take it!..yes, baby—“ a finger slid between your teeth as you observed him sinking to his knees and spreading you open. “Imma fuck the shit ‘out you, I swear..” That heat was slathered in glistening slick; only partially covered by that lacy garment. He didn’t even bother to remove them when he began his rapid ascent into your juicy cunt. “You can have all this dick…just lemme taste you first, baby..” Slurping loudly with that swollen clit puckered between his lips. Nose brushing against your covered mound; folds making contact with his tongue, especially when your fingers were coiled around his thick, dark locks. Grinding your slit against his face. And he’d devour it..in his drunken haze, Eren smacked, sucked and licked at your sex vigorously. Not worried about the mess trickling down to his chin or diamond chain. Even when you shook violently from your first orgasm. He wanted all that you had..

“Put that shit in my face, mama. Use me..you deserve it.” Continuing his feasting assault. He was enjoying touching, kissing and peppering your most sensitive areas with affection. “Y’know how much I missed you? Missed kissing on this pretty pussy…” He couldn’t help himself, truly. Watching you strut about in that dress, dance and shake your ass with a drink in hand…it drove him crazy so when he got behind closed doors, you were all his. So much so, he’d become as freaky and fluid with you as he desired…. “Matter of fact…spit in my fucking mouth. Lemme taste that shit.” Lobbing a long string down to his lips where he’d graciously swallow and continue devouring you. Squeezing at your breasts, (y/n) rolled your hips and rode his face with all you had. “Oh God, it feels so good!—eating this shit so good, baby..” He’d slap and spank your ass, squeezing those plump cheeks..getting more than his fill of his beautiful wife. In a moment of haste, he’d rise from his knees and cradle you in one fell swoop. Sweeping you from your feet to carry you over to the bed, where he’d toss you to finish stripping you from your clothes and eventually, doing the same of his own.

“Eren…”

“Yeah, princess? Tell me what you need..tell me everything you want..”

huffing as he tore off his shirt and unbuckled his pants..whilst he did so, he’d watch you spread your legs slightly; revealing that line of slick he had drawn up. He couldn’t wait to sink his cock in between those fat pussy lips..feel that tight warmth once again and reclaim your body as his own. Whilst he’d do so, you were rubbing and massaging your clit; curling your legs up in the air..

“..Need you to fuck me..want that dick so bad…”

whilst listening to your demands, he’d stroke himself from the base to the tip, getting his already stiff hard on even more erect. Chewing at his lower lip as he watched you toy with that plump cunt. It looked so good, he put in his mind right then and there that he may never pull out. You were going to be stuffed full of his cum.

“Then open them legs, baby..hold ‘em open..” traipsing straight up to you; placing a knee in the center of the bed as you spread yourself to his desire. That slit was overflowing with arousal and waiting for him to sink his cock in between those walls. You were already pulsating, recollecting the last time he had truly made love to you. With his entire being…fucking you slowly and relentlessly until you screamed out his name. Clawing your nails into his back until sharp red marks were left and every last droplet of his nut was housed inside of you after emptying those giant balls of his. You needed it and he craved you all the same. So without another moment of hesitation, after tapping himself against you..he’d glide right in.

“Oh my—fuuuck, baby. You feel so good. That pussy’s so tight..”

howling out as if it were the first time all over again. Regardless of how many times he took claim of you, the ever so familiar clutch and grip of your hole remained. Almost as if it were perfectly designed for him. He didn’t waste another second in trying to adjust or acclimate but rather, feeding you rhythmic, fluid strokes. Clawing a hand through his chocolate locks, Eren honed in on you and ensured that you felt every single thrust. “..goddamn…look at that shit. She’s creaming on me…you missed me too, baby? You missed daddy?” Cooing to both you and your needy cunt..referring to the milky sheath dripping all down shaft and balls. “Yes, daddy! Fuck!…I missed you so much. Missed the way you fucked me…” Although he was still gaining his stride, it took no time for your bodies to become reconnected. Housing him like that of a glove after each stroke. Regardless of his lack of sobriety, he was love drunk on you any day of the week and that would never change. With your quivering legs resting on his shoulders, he’d grab and position your foot to the center of his chest and kept a hold onto it. Suddenly, his lips would make home on the instep and ankle, ravaging it with soft and tender kisses. By then, his pace had begun to speed up and his opposite hand was circulating near your clit; massaging the sensitive bud with his thumb pad. Once he heard your response, he’d started to throb inside of you, loving how desperate you were for him..time and distance regardless.

“I know, princess…I’m so sorry I was away from you..” just then, you’d feel the sensation of your white painted toes gliding in and out of his mouth. Suckling and licking on them as faint growls arose from his throat. He was like a man unhinged, needing and craving you carnally. “That’s okay..because I swear imma make it up to you…” vowing through heavy pants as the feeling of you wrapped around his member had begun to take its toll. “Imma make you come until you can’t anymore. I’m yours..all night. Use me to get that nut. As many as you want..” That fat mushroom tip had swollen to its capacity..seeping precum as it pecked the inner corner of your cervix. Because of it, you had begun to emit splashes of squirt. “Fuuuck yes! Right there…right there, you’re stretching this fucking pussy, baby.” He’d slow down as not too catch them all at once because he wanted to take his time enjoying the onslaught of it. You had never heard him so vocal and primal, taking his time to ensure that your body was well and satisfied. Still thrashing around inside of you, Eren left one final kiss on your foot before bending those legs back behind your head; folding you into that of a quintessential pretzel shape. Either way, each movement of his thick cock was visible..down to the bulge in the lower part of your belly.

“..Nngh! ‘S too much, daddy! Need you take some out..”

whimpering for him with your fingers pawing at his abs, tapping because not even he realized how deep he was in it. Buried to the base with balls smacking your asshole. The bed was rattling around and the headboard slamming against the walls of the suite. Luckily, you had no guests nearby..otherwise, they were in for an earful. But that was neither of your concern. Even so, he couldn’t grant your request until you did something in return for him. Halting, he’d allow that dick to rest idly inside of you as he shoved his fingers into your mouth, working them in and out. “You gone squirt for me, mama? Nut all over this dick?” And naturally, he’d received a prompt nod back. He seemed satisfied with your answer so he’d slowly ease that throbbing cock out; a stream of his cum absentmindedly spraying across your torso and as promised, you’d spray his entire abdomen and cock up with those sweet, warm juices. He was pleased with the little display of waterworks, regardless of your whimpers. “There we go…good girl.” Praising you as you pushed out more of that nectar. Your legs were left in a trembling mess but he gave you no time to recover..

“Save some f’r me..” chuckling as he lowered his head and lapped up every drop of it, even latching into your clit despite the sensitivity. He was insatiable and hungrier for you, now more than ever! With your entire body left in shambles, he’d work his way back up from your thighs to your neck with that trailing tongue..wrapping a hand around your throat as he whispered into your ear. “I love you, fuck I swear..I love you so much. Don’t ever forget that..” whilst doing so..lingering on his every word, he’d ease himself back inside and resume his movements. Each one felt so much better than the last and you were hooked, on his every word and embrace. “I love you too, ‘Ren! I love you too..please, don’t stop..” He truly meant it and you never doubted for a second, even if that liquor was making the feelings more intense. He was yours and nothing could keep you two apart ever again. Peppering your temple with kisses, he’d persist and pound your core until you were leaking yet again. Almost without missing a beat, he’d spout a small loud into your womb and continued going..

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m not going nowhere…I’m right here wit’ you. You opening up so good f’r me…gonna make me give you all this nut..you want it? Want me to get you pregnant tonight?”

questioning in a high pitched coo as he were reaching his second peak so soon. Running on what seemed to be fumes but he had far more in the tank. You were throbbing; smiling with a fucked out expression on your face at the thought of him breeding you. Whatever he wanted to do…you were more than happy to go along with. As long as he kept making love to you like this.

“Please..come in me. Come in this pussy…it’s yours, always been yours..”

Glaring into his eye and encouraging that cum out of him. Low and behold, it didn’t take long before that he’d halt yet again and release not only a loud, ear shattering moan but a warm load as well. Right in the depth of your womb. Your nails dragged into his back, signifying just how good he was making you feel. But this was only the beginning of your drunken..steamy stupor. The best was yet to come!..

“Fuck..need you to take more of that, baby..need you to empty me.”

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gyuzgrl · 22 days

Text

don't be shy //csc//

summary- a variety show sparks feelings between you and your celebrity crush.

wc- 8k

You're ecstatic. Not even in your wildest dreams did you think you'd be invited to a reality show so early on in your career- especially not one as esteemed as 'one fine day'.

Having debuted only a few months ago, you had minimal expectations to begin with, but the overwhelming response from fans and your sudden rise to fame is still something you've yet to process.

It all happened so fast. Your debut stage was over in a wink and suddenly you were trending on twitter for your otherworldly visuals. Artists and idols you looked up to took to their sns accounts to praise you and your group for your talent and dedication- it was like a dream.

You never wanted to wake up.

That's how you found yourself here- in the middle of Thailand, surrounded by a bunch of loud idiots, sipping on some diet Coke as you hide under an umbrella.

You aren't sure what you expected when you received word that you were being invited to host and take part in the popular reality show- 'one fine day', with SEVENTEEN.

From what you'd heard, they had debuted just before you, and were doing just as well as you were. They seemed nice enough.

A sharp scream rips you from your thoughts, and you look up to see Dokyeom shooting across the sand, waving a pair of shorts in his hand, as a very angry short man chases him, wrapped in nothing but a beach towel.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and slump down against the sand.

This was going to be a long week.

"tired already?" Wonwoo asks, settling down beside you, "the members are... energetic-"

You grin, letting out a breathy laugh.

"yeah that's one way to say it"

"I'll have you know, by the end of the week you'll be a part of all this-"

"uhuh, we'll see" You shoot him a playful glare, only to have your jaw drop when you see something in the horizon.

Wonwoo follows your gaze and chuckles, shaking his head.

"I see you've spotted Sengcheollie Hyung"

"wh-what?"

"that's our leader"

The first day went by in the blink of an eye. You met all the members- except Sengcheol- and spoke to them for a while, getting to know each of them before shooting began.

You'd learnt from your conversations with each of them, that Seungcheol is as responsible, strong and warm, as he is gorgeous. Each one of the members looks up to him. From the youngest to the one's just as old as him, everyone leans on Seungcheol.

Not good.

How dare he be beautiful and dependable?

Your poor heart had already set its sights on him, and you hadn't even met the guy yet.

As you walk back to your hotel with the members and camera crew, you find yourself stealing glances at him every now and then. You tilt your eyes up once more, searching for him amidst the crowd, only to find him staring at you already.

Your eyes widen.

In an instant, you lower your gaze to the floor as you turn your head away. You've been caught.

Seungkwan chatters away next to you, talking about how exciting it is to host with you, but your mind is preoccupied.

Tentatively, you look back in Seungcheol's direction, and your eyes meet his. He shoots you a playful grin, eyes narrowing as you panic under his stare.

The air stills around you, growing heated, and you find yourself unable to look away. A deep blush bubbles up your cheeks, blood rushes to your head-

"...Noona?"

Seungkwan's voice snaps you from your trance, and you tear yourself from Seungcheol's grasp.

"yeah? what's- what's up?"

"you okay? you haven't said a word"

"I'm okay Kwannie, just a little nervous"

He blushes at the nickname, but in your distracted state, you fail to notice- just like how you didn't notice the way Wonwoo worked himself up to come talk to you, how Mingyu couldn't take his eyes off of you, how Chan stuck to your side all through lunch.

You were oblivious to the men around you.

All that mattered was Seungcheol.

Reaching the lounge, you wish everyone good night, and head off towards the elevator. The doors begin to close behind you, before a hand sticks its way through and coaxes them open, revealing none other than the man himself.

You grow still, unable to speak.

He waits as the doors close.

"I don't bite, y'know" he starts, his voice gentle as he leans against the wall opposite you, "did I scare you? I promise I'm not as scary as I look"

You lower your gaze in a futile attempt to hide your burning cheeks, and he sighs.

"I'm Seungcheol- I didn't get a chance to introduce myself, you uh- kept running away"

"y/n," you mumble, glancing up at him, "m'sorry about that"

He offers you a gentle smile, and you feel your heart twist painfully in your chest. The elevator stops on your floor, which coincidentally happens to be the same as his, and you scramble out, desperate to get some air.

In your haste, you lose your balance, and fall backwards, right into Seungcheol's strong arms. One hand supports your lower back, while the other grabs the back of your neck.

It's a simple touch, really. It's a hand Seungcheol extends out of courtesy, but god the electricity it sends rippling across your skin is undeniable. You know you shouldn't feel this way. You know- but it's so hard keeping your cool around him.

Its been a day. Just one. And you've already kissed your composure goodbye. What will a week do to you?

His lips curl up into a mischievous smile and he leans a tiny bit closer,

"think you can get to your room safely? I'd be more than happy to escort-"

"sh-shut up"

You straighten up, ignoring the raging blush on your cheeks, and stomp down the hallway to your room. He grins, trailing behind you to get to his own.

"oh we're neighbors," he muses, disappearing into his room as he calls out, "g'night".

Your heart thuds as you step into your room, back flush against the door, breathing hard.

The feeling of his hands on your body burns holes into your mind, and you find yourself replaying the scene over and over, while you unpack your suitcase, while you order room service, while you undress. You can't help but wonder how his hands would feel on your bare skin, can't control the way your mind wanders to how thick and beefy his arms are.

Thoughts of him plague you all night long, and you're certain the universe has it out for you when you hear him moving things around in his room, grunting with effort to pull heavy suitcases from one place to another.

The walls were thin.

This was going to be a difficult week for you.

The next day doesn't fare any better either, when you're told that everyone needed to assemble at the beach, dressed in swimwear.

You're devastated.

Breakfast gives you no respite when the man in question sits right opposite you, donning a pair of swimming trunks and a fitted black muscle tee.

As you try to focus on your cereal, he begins to speak.

"you slept okay?"

You peek up at him through your lashes and nod, before quickly breaking eye contact. There's a long silence, and you can feel him staring.

"y/n~" Mingyu calls, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he settles right next to you.

"hi hi," you greet, grinning up at him, "ready to hit the waves?"

"oh you bet baby,"

Seungcheol clears his throat, eyes dancing with a dangerous kind of fire, and Mingyu tenses, easing his arm off you. He mutters some lame excuse and disappears, leaving you alone.

With Seungcheol.

"how come you don't talk to me like that?"

"I- I just know the others bette-"

"bullshit," he interrupts, leaning into you, "you met us all yesterday- somehow the others have earned your affections and I haven't. have I lost to them already?"

Your eyes widen. Lost? What did he mean 'lost'?

"n-no it's just that I-"

Your hesitate, unable to formulate the right words. Saying the truth would reveal your feelings, lying would hurt his. How does one proceed in such situations?

"just what?" he urges, "tell me what I'm doing so wrong you can't even look me in the eye-"

The pained furrow of his brows makes your stomach twist. Your blatant avoidance, the way you didn't speak around him, how your eyes never met his for more than a second- he noticed it all.

You stay silent, now looking up at him helplessly. He sighs, leaning back in his chair, and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I just- I don't know what I've done wrong"

You're about to say something, about to reassure him and tell him 'no- you're perfect, you've done nothing wrong', when Jeonghan pulls a chair up next to you.

"morning," he mumbles, a slight smirk playing at his lips.

"hey."

"morning."

"nice to see you finally getting along," he glances at the two of you before continuing, "see? I told you there was no need to be nervous about ddaddu-"

Your eyes widen.

"nervous?" Seungcheol looks at Jeonghan and then you.

"no! no, Jeonghan's just being funny- right Jeonghan?"

Both of them share a knowing glance before Jeonghan grins.

"uhuh I was just being silly, you know me ahaha"

You excuse yourself, shovelling the rest of your cereal in your mouth, before shuttling off down the hallway to the safety of your room.

What you fail to notice, however, is the half-amused-half-defeated look on Jeonghan's face. As you speed off, far far away, he turns to Seungcheol.

"there's something going on here, isn't there?"

"dunno what you're talkin' about"

"oh there's definitely something going on here"

Hours later, at the beach, you're cursing the gods. You failed to take into account how swimwear worked a little differently for men.

He was in swimming trunks. Swimming trunks and nothing else.

Heaven help you.

You tried your best to put on a brave face for the cameras, you really did, but god- it wasn't funny how tongue tied you got at the sight of him, how your face would grow so red your makeup artists needed to pat on layer after layer of foundation.

Today's episode was supposedly focused on a game of tag. There would be two chasers, while the rest would have to run and hide, successfully, for two hours.

After a long game of rock, paper, scissors, Joshua and Seungkwan are chosen.

They get into a little van, counting till a hundred, while everyone else runs across the expanse of the beach, searching for shelter.

You slip into a little nook behind a couple of thick trees, tucking your legs under you.

Your cameraman graciously offered to leave you alone, lest you get caught, and you find yourself all alone, surrounded by moss and forest.

That doesn't last long.

Heavy footsteps draw your attention, and your ears perk up. Surely they haven't finished counting so soon?

Pushing your body closer to the walls of the tree, you peer up at the body making it's way to you.

Pale skin, black swimming trunks, no shirt-

"Seungcheol?"

"oh shi- move in, they're coming"

You oblige, schooching further in as he pushes up against you.

His shoulders shield you from the side, chest flush against your upper arm as his breath tickles the shell of your ear.

"sorry," he mumbles, trying to give you as much space as the little hull would permit- which, admittedly, is not very much.

"you're good,"

Silence settles on you like a heavy blanket, heating up the skin on both your bodies.

"you've uh, got a good eye for hiding spots"

"yeah I was undefeated at tag in the second grade"

He chuckles, shaking his head.

"sorry- you're just trynna make conversation I know-" you mumble, slightly guilty.

"don't be,"

You nod, shifting slightly.

"you're so tense," he muses, eyes trailing over your scrunched shoulders, "shouldn't be so on edge all the time y'know"

Amused by your silence, he continues.

"breathe, y/n"

You suck in a shaky breath, unsure of why your body listens to his command without question.

"that's it, good, now let go for me"

His voice is soothing like the tide; it ripples through you, smoothing out your trembling nerves.

"there we go, one more time,"

Following his voice, you feel your body relax completely. For the first time all day, you've felt your body calm.

"thank you," you mutter, and turn to face him.

Bad idea.

Bad. Idea.

All the breath work he'd helped you with goes flying out the window when you see how close his face really is.

The puffs of air he let's out fan over your face, hovering over the crimson of your lips. You feel your breath catch, your heart quicken, your face heat up.

He's so close.

An inch closer and his lips would be on yours.

Before your thoughts get any further, you look away, opting to look at the width of his shoulder instead.

"uh uh, you're looking at me" he tuts as he eases your chin back in his direction. The pad of his thumb grazes your skin, and your blush burns brighter.

An amused smile twists at his lips and obviously, you're aware of how pathetic you must look.

Just as you're about to push his hand away, he leans closer, whispering-

"do I make you nervous?"

There's a pull between your bodies, a magnet drawing you closer, closer still. Seungcheol's breaths fan over your face and his eyes drop to take in the plush of your lips. You follow suit, eyes darting from his own to his lips.

It's as though time stills around you, like you've been set in glass, and he's about to kiss you, when suddenly, you hear a familiar yell.

"SHUA HYUNG- THERE'S A FOOT OVER HERE!"

You jolt upright, pulling away from Seungcheol so quickly he can barely process what's just happened.

Your eyes dart to his lower body, and you see the way one of his feet stick out beyond the width of your hiding spot.

"wh-"

In a haste, you push a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"your leg-" you whisper-shout at him, tilting your head towards the traitorous foot.

His eyes widen.

Before you can say anything more, Seungcheol grasps your hand, gently taking your finger off his lips and places it against yours. Wordlessly, he rises to his feet, shielding you with his body.

"I GOT CHEOLLIE HYUNG-" you hear Seungkwan yell.

Quizzical as ever, you glance up at the man before you, brows knitting together. He shoots you a sly wink, and whispers- "you'll win for me, won't you?", leaving you red faced and confused.

"ya got me, I'll admit," he holds his hands above his head as he steps away, in Seungkwan's direction.

The next moments pass by in a haze, like you've been submerged under water. All you could think of was the way his breath felt on your lips, the way his voice simultaneously soothed and burned your nerves, the way he protected you- giving himself up instead.

Damn Choi Seungcheol and the way he had you wrapped around his little finger.

You remain hidden for the next twenty-or-so minutes, and the game comes to an end.

You've won.

You're told that your prize is a local dinner with a person of your choosing- staff or member, and it only makes sense to pick Seungcheol. After all, you wouldn't have won without him.

Failing to notice the dejected gazes and smiles the rest of the members sent your way, you walk past them, headed straight for him.

"I choose you." you say, standing in front of him.

The way his eyes widen, lips parting in an instant, tells you that this wasn't on his bingo list. You? Choosing him of all people? Hell- he thought he fucked up big time today-

"me?"

"you."

He's dumbfounded. Honest.

At the restaurant, you sit opposite one another at a table for two. Cameras surround you like endless ocean, and your table becomes an island.

You know he's thinking about today's events when his gaze flicks down to your lips. You know you're thinking about it too.

You also know, however, that this is not the place to discuss secret almost-kisses. Not when everything you do, everything you say, will be monitored.

"I'm still so surprised you chose me," he chuckles as you finish getting your makeup done.

"I couldn't have won without you,"

There's a smallness to your voice, one he hasn't heard these past few days. It's meek and soft and shy and god it's killing him. How could you be this adorable?

"oh c'mon, that was... nothing, honestly"

You shake your head, looking into his eyes earnestly, and he goes quiet. Flicking back and forth, from eyes to lips, you find yourselves sinking into dangerous territory.

The rich brown of his pupils seemed to grow darker as they held your picture within them. Each second he spent looking at you had them blowing wider and wider with something you couldn't help but swoon over.

Perhaps your feelings were being...returned?

Clearing your throat, you remember you're on camera.

"w-what are we ordering?" you blurt out.

"d'you have any preferences or would you like me to order for us?"

Your heart twists at the way he says it- 'us'.

Us.

"you can order...fo- for us" you mutter as your head drops ever so slightly, and you look up at him through heavy lashes and burning cheeks.

The corners of his lips turn upwards, into the softest smile he can fathom, and he nods- although more to himself that to you.

"how about Khao Soi? we can do that, some raw papaya salad and a sticky rice dessert to finish?"

You nod, letting your eyes skim over the way his throat moves with every word he says. As he beckons the waiter over, you can't help but notice how long and thick his fingers are, how veins trail across his arm.

And his voice- god, his voice. The deep, rich timbre of it has you feeling weak in the knees every time you hear him speak.

"-and to drink, we'll get two coconut waters," he concludes, sending the waiter off with your orders. "I wonder what the others are doing,"

"me too, I feel a little bad y'know... we should've all come together" you pout.

"yeah I can't say they're very happy to have missed this-"

You smile- "missed the food, right?"

"sure"

You exchange knowing glances, your eyes having their own secret conversation, unbeknownst to the cameras around them.

Dinner flies by like a cool summer breeze, and you find yourself falling deeper and deeper into Seungcheol's charms. Not only did he ensure that you were served first, he also made sure to cut your chicken into bite sized pieces, and remembered little details from your earlier conversations.

A flirty remark was thrown in every now and then, some more obvious than others, and you found yourself turning red so often, you might as well have gotten a permanent sunburn.

You talk about music and the people you look up to, the stars, highschool memories- everything. Conversation just came so easily with him.

The plates and bowls before you lay empty on the table, the cameras have been turned off, and your mics have been taken away.

Seungcheol gets out of his seat, moving to your side as he offers you his hand. You take it, graciously, and rise from your chair.

"thanks," you mumble, slightly tipsy from the blood his touch sends rushing to your head.

"mhm"

You step outside, trailing behind the staff members while you walk towards your hotel.

"so," he starts, when you've kept a safe distance from prying ears and eyes, "about today..."

Before he can say anything more, you shudder, suddenly feeling nervous.

He looks at you, brows furrowing, but chooses to move on anyways.

"...I uh, did I scare you? was that too much?"

"no! no I just- it caught me off guard is all"

"I seem to be doing that a lot huh?" he muses, fighting back a sly smirk. Seungcheol steps closer, shoulders bumping into yours, and you let out a surprised squeak.

Embarrassed, you turn away as he laughs beside you. A pout takes over your full lips, causing his laughter to increase its intensity.

"tha-that wasn't-" you huff out, to which he raises an amused brow.

"wasn't what? wasn't 'cause of me- wasn't 'cause I make you nervous?"

Oh.

He had you figured out.

You might as well have been stark naked under his stare, 'cause frankly- there was nothing left to hide. Not from him.

Still, you make one last attempt at disguising your feelings towards him. Through deep red cheeks, flushed skin, you speak-

"you- I'm not nervous!"

"uhuh, sure you aren't, sweetheart"

Your heartbeat quickens at the petname. Surely, he didn't just-

"hey-" he snaps you out of your thoughts, "I can practically hear the gears turning in that head of yours,"

"let me beeee" you whine, nudging him away lightly with your fingers knocking against his bicep. Seungcheol brings a hand to his chest and pouts in faux pain, eyes scrunching shut.

"I'll leave you alone then," he begins to step away from you, and you panic. Without thinking, you pinch the fabric of his shirt sleeve between your fingers, and tug him back, preventing him from leaving.

You stay silent when he twists his gaze to you, and whatever semblance of mystery, of uncertainty, you'd built up comes crashing down. The gentle grasp of your fingers on his shirt tells Seungcheol all he needs to know.

The two of you walk in silence, and before long you find yourselves at the hotel, bidding people goodnight as you enter the elevator together.

"it's cute when you do that, y'know?" he says, suddenly, motioning to the nervous twiddling of your fingers.

"it is?"

"uhuh, even that little pout you make everytime you're flustered-" he brings his hands down to meet yours, grasping your fist gently. You fingers lace together like pieces of a puzzle, and he steps closer.

"really?"

"mhm" Another step.

"Seungcheol," you breathe. The air feels heavy, dense with desire and want. A little voice at the back of your head urges you to step back, to stop whatever this is, but you can't help yourself.

"tell me you want me to stop- tell me you don't feel this,"

There's a rawness to his voice, something akin to desperation. He begs you with his eyes to say something, anything, he's been losing his mind over you and it hurts to have you this close but still out of reach.

"I-" you start. The elevator dings, signalling your floor, and your eyes snap to the open doors. "it's late, we should-"

"do you feel this, y/n?" he pleads, loosening his grip on your wrist.

"we shouldn't-"

Seungcheol lets out an exasperated groan as you slip out of his grasp, slowly backing away down the corridor and into your room. He watches you disappear and something inside him begins to snap.

It had been two days. Two days since he met you, but it felt like his heart had been searching for you since forever. The way you'd fit perfectly into his arms, the way your shy demeanor mellowed out his intimidating one, how easy it was to talk to you- Seungcheol knew deep within, his feelings for you were more than a simple crush.

You wake up the next day, and head down for breakfast. Avoiding the pleading glances Seungcheol sends your way, you force yourself to eat. You aren't sure why you do this- it's not like you feel uncomfortable, hell you feel exactly the way he does. So, why was it so hard to look at him?

Seungkwan and Vernon strike up a conversation with you, talking about what was in store for today.

"our hair-makeup Noona told me that we're going shopping!" Seungkwan beams. Vernon nods, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth.

"shopping?"

"yep we're gonna buy clothes and food and stuff and I think there's a mini game in the evening"

You nod, finishing up your breakfast, and soon enough, you're all on your way to a large market place.

Bright stalls lit up the street, the smell of fresh food filled your senses, and the sun shone down, illuminating the world around you.

You had till the evening to do as you pleased.

Splitting off into groups, everyone begins to explore the market place, and you just so happen to be with Jeonghan, Joshua and Seungcheol.

If the past few days have taught you anything, it's that the twins cannot be trusted. The moment you see Joshua flash you a cheeky grin, you know they're up to no good.

A stall catches your eye, decorated with the most beautiful jewellery you've ever seen. Seashells and gem stones wrapped in thin gold wire made the prettiest necklaces and earrings, and you couldn't help but pick one up for yourself.

"see anything you like?"

It's Seungcheol. He plants himself behind you, chest pressed to your back, lips hovering dangerously close to the shell of your ear.

You freeze, holding the necklace in one hand. Before you can respond, an arm reaches out beside you and pries the item out of your hand.

"pretty," he mumbles, sending shivers down your spine.

You crane your neck to the side while your eyes search for his, and you see him staring directly at you.

"I uh, yeah it's um pretty"

Seungcheol places the piece back down, leaning into you as he reaches over the table- essentially trapping you between the display and his body.

Your breath hitches at how close he is. One wrong move- one right move- and his lips would be on yours. You don't dare to look away.

"aren't you gonna buy it?" the stall owner cuts in, "pretty necklace for pretty lady, eh?"

You shake your head as you step away- "I shouldn't-" you trail off, suddenly realising that Jeonghan and Joshua are nowhere to be seen.

"hey where'd those two go?" You set off, walking ahead to look for them- an excuse, obviously, to get away from Seungcheol. The blood rushing to your head was making you feel dizzy.

The day passes, you explore the market, eating all that you could. Taking in the new sights and smells, you feel so alive. Happiness really doesn't need much, does it?

Back at the hotel, you find yourself in your room with Joshua and Seungkwan as they try on all the new clothes they bought.

"kay this is the last one I think-" Seungkwan says, appearing in a blue Hawaiian shirt and some funny looking sunglasses.

You give him a thumbs up, turning to Joshua.

"you're done too?"

"mhm, I didn't buy too much"

You talk for a bit before they say their goodbyes, turning in for the night, and you're left alone in your room with nothing but your thoughts to entertain you.

'pretty'

Seungcheol's voice soothes through you and once again, you find yourself drifting off into thoughts of him. A sneaky hand slides down your body, past your sleep shorts, and you let your mind think back to him.

Day four begins uneventfully. It's a lazy morning, you order room service, read a little.

The real fun begins at night.

At 8 pm, you're ushered into the hotel bar, right by the pool. Bright neon lights hanging from the ceiling, the pool is illuminated by electric blue, and a large table- enough to seat 14- is placed in the centre.

"oh shit," Vernon comments from beside you, lowering his phone as you all take in the space around you.

A speaker comes to life from somewhere in the corner, and a distorted voice booms throughout the setting.

"night has come. prior to this evening three of you have received chits, revealing your role as the mafia."

Excited oohs and ahs leave everyone's lips as you wait for further information.

"the mafias have been allowed to meet and plan their strategy, the policeman and doctor have been chosen as well, but are not aware of each other's identity. if the mafias succeed in killing a majority of the civillians, they win. if the civillians kill all three mafia members, the civilians win. hidden in this space is a seashell. find it, and you win 500,000 won. if you don't find it- the money goes to the mafias, and they win. note- the pool is not off limits. please be seated at the table, and place your first guesses"

In a flurry of excitement and energy, you sit down. Everyone's on edge. The air is electric. A sly smile threatens to ruin your facade of innocence, but you push it down, putting on your best performance.

Earlier this morning, you, Minghao and Jeonghan had met up in your room, planning your victory.

The plan was simple. You had to tug on a couple heartstrings- use your charm to your advantage.

As long as you weren't suspected, the mafias would win.

And so, the game begins. Accusations go flying back and forth- fingers point wildly as voices raise to shocking decibels.

You watch your partners carefully.

Minghao is cool, composed, quiet- just like he usually is. Jeonghan uses his words, spreading accusations like wildfire, and the others eat it up with no hesitation.

All of a sudden, Soonyoung jerks out of his chair, rising to his feet with revelation written all over his face. His eyes widen momentarily before they narrow at the poor soul sitting opposite him.

"guys- IT'S MINGYU- TRUST ME GUYS, I'LL EXPLAIN IT ALL LATER IT'S MINGYU-"

The larger man huffs, shoulders slumping as he accepts defeat.

The game goes on, Mingyu has been killed, and the first round of searching yields no results for the civillians.

"night has fallen. mafias please select who you want to kill"

You point to Wonwoo.

The doctor fails to save him.

"morning is here- innocent civilian Wonwoo has been killed"

And again, chaos descends upon the room. Accusations settle on Woozi now, who's been suspiciously quiet according to the other members. You join in as well, agreeing with the majority, and Woozi is killed.

You, Minghao and Jeonghan share secret smiles.

The second round of searching begins and you wander off, pretending to search around.

"I can see right through you, y'know..." Seungcheol says, appearing beside you.

"wh-"

"nah I'm just kidding- who d'you think it is?"

"why would I reveal my cards? what if you're the mafia?" You narrow your eyes at him, backing away slightly in jest.

"cause I'm the police officer. and I think we should form an alliance-"

Hook, line, and sinker.

An grin takes over your features and you nod, "yeah I'd like that" You stare up at him, eyes wide, shining with innocence, and he melts instantly.

To him, you're intentions are all good. After all, how could you- an actual angel on Earth- betray him?

"night has fallen, mafias please select who you want to kill"

As Jeonghan and Minghao raise their heads, you mouth- 'Seungcheol- he's the police officer', and point to the man in question.

Jeonghan shoots you a proud smile before returning to crouch down on the table.

Once again, the doctor fails, and you succeed.

Seungcheol is dead.

"morning is here- policeman Seungcheol has been killed"

His jaw drops. Looking at you, Seungcheol is astonished at your effortless deception.

The third round begins and you sneak away into a closet, pretending to search. Seungcheol comes up behind you, and smirks.

"sly girl," he says, voice low and sultry, "got my guard down with that pretty face"

Your breathing halts.

Pretty.

Oh.

"what are y-"

"oh cut the bullshit, you knew exactly what you were doing- looking at me with those eyes,"

A bashful smile plays at your lips and you take a few steps back, coming in contact with the wall behind you. He smirks, stepping closer and closer with one hand tucked loosely in his pocket while the other reaches up to brush your hair out of your face.

The contact makes your skin flush, and he chuckles in disbelief.

"fuck you're adorable-"

He leans down, lips ghosting over yours, as his eyes grow heavy.

Time, unfortunately, isn't on your side, and the round comes to an end. You pout, mouthing a quick "sorry", and leave as his arm chases your parting figure.

"night has fallen, mafias please select who you want to kill"

The next couple of rounds pass by quickly, and finally all the members are killed, save for Soonyoung and Jun.

Your victory is announced, and you head back to you rooms after a hearty dinner.

Seungcheol and you make your way to the elevator, after saying your good-byes, and for the first time, you see him scowl.

"what's wrong?" you giggle, leaning against the elevator wall.

"oh nothing nothing," he mutters, stepping closer with each word, "I've been trynna kiss this girl for a while now, but I think God hates me"

You laugh, tipping your head back against the cool metal wall, and Seungcheol stands stunned. You were just so beautiful.

After a moment of silence, you straighten up, facing him once more, only to find his gaze already fixed on you. There's sure shot desire and awe burning behind his eyes. It's clear as day.

You stare up at him, and it's as though the world stops. The same pull you felt all these days, draws your bodies closer. Like a moth to flame, Seungcheol finds himself drawn to you. He's helpless.

He stands in front of you, your faces dangerously close, and you feel your breathing quicken. One hand cradles the nape of your neck while the other finds your waist.

"Seungcheol-"

"hm?"

"please-"

And his lips are on yours.

Colours blur together behind your closed eyes, fireworks go off in your head, your skin hums under his touch- it's nothing short of perfect; like a kiss straight out of the movies.

Your lips push against each other with a desperation you've never felt before, and his hands pull you closer. Seungcheol moves with such expertise, you can't help but feel your knees weaken with every motion of his body.

The ding of the elevator pries you away from each other, and you pull away panting. Your chest heaves like never before, and he shoots you a knowing glance. With his eyes he asks you- 'shall we continue?'

You rush out of the elevator, heading straight for his room. Shaky hands slide his keycard into the door and you're in.

Stepping inside, reality hits you like a truck and you pause.

"what's wrong-"

"what if someone finds ou-"

"shut up"

"what?"

"shut up" he breathes, pushing his lips against yours once again, effectively silencing you. All your doubts melt away, it's like the world's forgotten.

A hand sneaks down to your lower back, pulling you closer, and you gasp. Seungcheol smirks, taking advantage of your parted lips as he slides his tongue into your mouth. You whimper at the motion and his lips quirk up.

He loved it when you got all flustered for him, but this tops it all. Once he heard the little sound you made, there was no containing himself. The little control he'd managed to retain, finally snapped, and he let himself go.

The kiss turns hotter, wetter, and you both know where this is going.

Your chest burns, you heart races, and you pull away, panting. His eyes narrow in on the unsteady rise and fall of your chest, the swollen pout of your lips, the unmarked, tender flesh of your neck.

Backing up, Seungcheol settles down, sitting at the foot of the bed with his legs spread slightly as he adjusts his trousers. He looks up at you.

"c'mere baby" his voice is sinfully sultry, fingers beckoning you over to sit on his lap.

Your feet follow before your brain does, and you straddle his thigh, whimpering when your sex comes in contact with the firm muscle of his leg.

"oh?" he teases, hands smoothing over your hips, grabbing at the tender flesh as he forces your body to work against his thigh. "wanna ride my thigh, sweetheart?"

Your head dips into the crook of his neck and you nod, feeling small under the weight of his stare.

"c'mon, you gotta look at me-"

You whine into his neck, and he shudders, grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you into place.

"uh uh, this isn't up for debate baby," he tuts, "wanna see that pretty face"

You bite your lip, stifling a moan, when he rocks your hips into his thigh. The friction of your panties and the texture of his trousers sends you spiralling into a world of pleasure. Your skirt pools around your hips as he holds you steady, now bouncing his legs ever so slightly.

He pulls and pushes you as he pleases, manhandling your body like you were a toy- but god that made you feel some type of way. How he could move you and touch you and command you with such ease, had your panties soaked through.

You needed to feel him in you. Needed him to fill you up and fuck you so good you only remember his name.

"that's it, shit" he groans, pulling you harder until your clit snags ever so slightly on the fabric of his pants. You moan, legs twitching at the stimulation, and he smirks.

"you like that, huh?"

You nod, helplessly.

So he does it again. And again. And again, until your legs spasm around this thigh, until you moan and whimper, until you come undone.

All for him.

"aw sweetheart, you made a mess," he coos, as his hands run along the curve of your ass.

"don't- fuck don't say that"

You face is beet red- if he didn't know any better he would've been concerned right about now.

"d'you wanna keep going baby?"

You nod, eyes shining.

"so eager," he grins, "here, lie down for me-" Seungcheol pushes you gently so that your body rests comfortably on his mattress, and crawls atop you, legs settling at either side of your hips.

As much as you've thought about this very scenario, as much as you've imagined how he'd be on top of you, nothing could've prepared you for how breathtaking Seungcheol looks like this.

His hair's messy, his cheeks are flushed, and the look in his eyes has you burning with anticipation. How someone could be so gorgeous is beyond you.

"m'gonna make you feel good, hm?" he murmurs, dipping his head into the crook of your neck, sucking little love bites into the tender flesh. You groan, tilting your head involuntarily, and nod.

He grins against you, lips streching in a knowing smirk. Trailing his kisses lower to your collarbones, to the swell of your breasts, Seungcheol glances up at you-

"may I?" he asks, fingers sliding under the hem of your top, splaying against your tummy.

"mhm, please"

Pleased, he lifts your top off, tossing is aside before working your bra. Deft fingers slide under your back, clicking your clasps open with ease, and suddenly, you're bare under him.

Your nerves catch up to you, and you realise that he's staring. He's staring hard. Like you're the eighth wonder of the world and he's just discovered you. Like you're the long lost city of gold and he's been searching for you all his life. Like-

"you're so beautiful," he breathes. "fuck- let me look at you"

You turn away, a bashful smile lighting up your face- "stopp"

"I'm serious, you're honestly so-" he huffs out, unable to find a word big enough to fit how he feels about you.

A giggle bubbles out of your throat and he smiles. His eyes crinkle, forming tiny crescents, as he looks down at you so fondly you think you're heart's going to burst.

He presses his face into your chest, inhaling the scent of your skin while his lips press tender kisses to your breasts. The wet smacks he leaves across your skin burn cool under the gentle breeze swaying through the room. It tickles your skin.

Feeling his lips move along your skin, your desperation only builds.

"Seungcheol," you whine, drawling out the last syllable, "hurry please"

He tuts and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your breast, your body jolts in response.

"patience," he mumbles into your skin, "patience, baby", leaving goosebumps as he speaks. A shiver wracks its way through you, uncontrollable and intense.

"oh sweetheart-"

Choosing to be merciful, Seungcheol kisses a trail down your naked torso, stopping above the waistband of your skirt.

"this okay?"

"more than okay- just god, please don't stop" you whimper, hips jerking involuntarily into his hand.

Slowly, meticulously, he dips two fingers under the edge of your skirt and drags it down, letting his nails rake over the expanse of your thighs.

You shudder under his touch, completely at his mercy.

Once your skirt is off completely, he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your ankle, and crawls up to face your cunt.

"god you've made such a mess of these," he rasps, running a finger along your slit through your soaked panties. Automatically, your hips roll up, seeking something more, but he forces them down firmly.

One hand holds you down while the other prods at your clothed entrance. He shoots you an evil smirk, and your breathing grows shallow.

"I hope you don't like these too much,"

All you hear is fabric ripping at the seams, and your eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"wha- oh my god" you cut yourself off with a loud moan as Seungcheol licks a thick stripe up your slit.

He winks up at you, eyes flashing with pride, and begins his work.

It's true what they say about rappers- their tongues really are built different.

Seungcheol devours you like he's been starved for years, like he begins and ends with you, like the taste of you is intoxicating. His tongue dips down into you, collecting your arousal before spreading it over your clit it firm waves.

The way he works that muscle against you isn't funny. It has you yelping, whimpering so pathetically you're both embarrassed and turned on at the same time

He laves at your clit, lapping up your juices greedily as if it gave him more pleasure than it did you.

"you taste divine," he mutters, half to himself, before plunging two fingers into your aching sex without warning. You moan, back arching off the bed, hips rolling up to meet his lips.

Seungcheol flicks his tongue rapidly against your hardened bud while his fingers piston in and out of you, curling up into you- oh, right there.

Your limbs tremble under his hold and your stomach tightens deliciously, waiting eagerly for your release; with the way he works your body, it isn't far away.

"Cheollie m'close-" you gasp, hands flying down to hold him in place, lest he decide to deny you of your orgasm. He groans when you tug at his hair, sending sound waves vibrating through your nerves.

A thin film of sweat settles over your skin, coating you like gloss. Your body writhes under his touch, and within moments, you feel yourself slip into blinding pleasure. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you limbs twitch helplessly.

Seungcheol eases you through your orgasm, slurping at your folds to taste your arousal. He pulls away with a smacking sound, his chin coated in your slick, and smirks at the fucked out look on your face.

"that good, huh?"

Cocky bastard. You want to smack that stupid smirk off his face, you want to throttle him and yell and hide all at the same time- but you know he's right. It really was that good.

So, you nod, looking away bashfully, red smeared across your pretty cheeks.

"wanna see you," you whimper, when he finally rises to his feet, towering over you.

He cocks a brow at you, a challenge dancing in his eyes, and you pout.

"please"

His expression stays the same and you can't help the exasperated huff you let out.

"please Cheollie I wanna see you,"

Finally, he smiles, obliging- "there we go, that's my good girl"

You aren't sure what you expected from him, but the moment he lifts his shirt off, time begins to slow. The lean, hard muscle of his chest, the defined ridges of his abs, the sinful swell of his biceps- you were drooling.

"can I-"

You trail off, sitting up so that you're seated at the edge of the bed, your face right in his abs.

"you can do whatever you want, sweetheart, m'all yours"

You giggle, "c'mon we've known each other for all of three days,".

"a lot can happen in three days,"

"mhm, but still-"

"hey," he turns serious for a second, "if this is going too fast for you, we can take things slower, okay?"

And suddenly, your desperation skyrockets. You've needed him from the moment you first saw him, and now that the time has come, it'll take an earthquake to stop this from happening.

Eager hands rake down his torso, tucking under the waistband of his pants. He hisses at the contact, eyes fluttering closed as you undress him.

"I want this," you affirm, voice soft and sultry, "I want you."

Leaving him in his boxers, you press a kiss to his abs, letting your hands roam over his defined torso, and then a little lower. Hard earned muscle greets your touch, and you can't help the way your cunt begins to clench up.

Seungcheol has the body of a god.

"baby-" he rasps as he threads his fingers through your hair, "fuck, you're gonna make me cum just like this-"

You giggle, letting him push you gently back onto the bed. He stares you down, eyes locking onto yours, and slides his last garment off so slowly you could cry.

"hurry" you whine, spreading your legs desperately.

Seungcheol has to compose himself. He really does. The sight of you, all spread out for him, so eager for him, has his head spinning. He curses under his breath, kicking his boxers off, and crawls above you, rubbing his cock along your wet folds.

A broken whimper claws up your throat at the contact, and you actually sob when he begins to push himself into you. Two fingers couldn't hold a candle to the girth of his cock.

"y-you're so big" you gasp, tears pricking at your eyes, and for once, you aren't lying just to feed a male ego. He was huge.

Your walls stretch deliciously around his girth, and you let out a shrill cry when he pushes further. You've taken big cocks before, but this? This put your toys to shame.

"just let go, doll, that's it baby, that's it-" he soothes, sucking in shaky breaths, trying desperately to control himself.

After what feels like an eternity, Seungcheol finally bottoms out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix with ease.

"oh," is all you can manage, feeling your insides make room for him. The shape of his cock presses into your walls, and your certain you won't be able to walk tomorrow. He's thick and long and heavy, and god you feel like some cock-hungry slut, with how desperate you seem to have gotten for him.

"fuck- you're so tight-"

"pl-please move," you whimper, jaw falling open when he draws his hips back before slamming into you.

Tears spill over the dams of your eyes, staining your flushed cheeks. Your eyes glisten with desire as you stare up at him, watching how his face contorts in pleasure.

"that's it, sweetheart," he seethes, supporting his weight on his forearms, caging you with his body, "takin' me so fucking good".

The drag of his cock, in and out of your sloppy cunt is nothing short of addictive. With every snap of his hips, you find yourself craving more and more, wanting him to burn, break, bend you.

"Cheollie please," your nails rake down his back, leaving marks you're sure you'll get in trouble for tomorrow, but you don't care and neither does he. All that matters is you, him and the pleasure you feel in this moment.

As Seungcheol pounds into you, his eyes remain trained in on your face, never losing focus of what matters most- you. There's a tender adoration in his gaze, how he looks at you so fondly, like you're the prettiest damn thing in the world.

"good fuckin' girl," he groans, "keep those eyes on me."

The room fills with the smell of sweat and the sound of sex- skin on skin, moaning, panting. You'd have been embarrassed of the lewd noises slipping past your lips if you'd have had your wits about you. The walls are thin. You know this. You know this, but still- feeling as good as you do, you can't bring yourself to care. Dealing with angry neighbours is tomorrow's problem.

A hand slips in between your legs, thumbing your clit, rubbing tight circles into the sensitive nub, and your eyes screw shut.

That all too familiar knot in your tummy begins to form, and Seungcheol forces his cock into you harder. The combined stimulation of his dick inside you and his hands on you is intoxicating, and you sink into the mattress, feeling a wave of release wash all over you.

But he's far from done.

"fuck-" he moans, feeling your walls spasm and squeeze around him as you cum all over his cock, "take it for me, yeah? you can take a little more, can't you?"

You whimper, legs quivering from overstimulation, and your body jerks under him as he continues to thrust into you, using your body as he pleases.

"shh, I know baby, I know," he soothes, dipping his head into your neck, sucking deep red bruises into the skin there.

Tears pool in your eyes, you nerves scream for respite, but you can't bring yourself to stop.

You can't help it.

He grabs your thigh, hooking it over his back, and pushes into you, reaching further than before. The new position sends you reeling from pleasure, and you swear no man has ever made you feel like this.

Despite having just cum, you feel another orgasm build in your belly- this one approaching much faster than the last.

"m'gonna- Cheollie please please, gonna cum" you sob, clawing at his back as his thrusts grow sloppy and harsh.

"cum for me."

And you do, clenching down hard around his length, leading him to his own release. He fills you up, emptying white hot fluid into your greedy hole, and finally, you're satiated.

Your limbs tremble and spasm, your skin feels sticky and hot, and your lips are swollen- but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Seungcheol collapses onto you, putting pressure of your stomach, causing your combined arousals to seep out of you, trickling onto the duvet.

"let's get a bath going for you," he chuckles, lifting his body back up and walking to the bathroom.

He fiddles around with the taps for a minute before coming back out, plucking a little box out of his bag as he settles down next to you.

"for you," he smiles, pressing the item into your hand.

You pry it open, and your jaw drops.

It was the necklace you wanted. The pretty one with the seashells and gems. You turn to him, eyes glistening and pull him into a sweet kiss.

It's different from your earlier ones. The way his lips move against yours aren't as agressive, and desperate as before. This time, he seems to be showing you how he feels, showing you his sincerity- it's almost as if he's trying to ask: "will you be mine?"

You pull away, breathless. His eyes sparkle as he looks fondly at you.

"pretty necklace for pretty lady," he grins, "right?"

#seventeen #seventeen smut #svt smut #smut #choi seungcheol #scoups smut #scoups #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #kpop smut #seventeen seungcheol #shameless smut #strangers to lovers #it's all kinda rushed but like- c'mon

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lqveharrington · 14 days

Text

Lucky King? | L.M.

summary: Lucifer takes pride in everything he has, especially his wife.

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x wife!reader

includes: fluff, lucifer being a sweet and attentive husband and father, suggestiveness, possessiveness, that’s pretty much it (let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: okay but like, i am on serious hazbin brain rot, i have written more for HH than any other fandom so far.

Being the embodiment of pride meant that Lucifer constantly flaunted everything to his fellow sins and his people. And being the King of Hell meant he had a lot to brag about. Especially his family. God, Lucifer loved his family and would do anything to talk about them in every conversation.

An overlord meeting about movie productions on VoxFlix? Add romantic comedies, they’re his wife and daughter’s favorite. Speaking with Beelzebub about her different alcoholic beverages? Make sure to make mojitos, they’re his wife and daughter’s favorite.

He took pride in who he married and who his daughter was. After all, they were the royal family of Hell.

“Mom, I think it’s as tight as it can go— MOM!” Charlie’s eyes flashed red as she squealed, grabbing your arm.

“Sorry!” You tilt your head back as you let a laugh fall from your lips. “I thought you said—“

“No no no no noooo!” She turned around, eyes wide. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” You kiss her cheek and adjust her crown.

Charlie beamed at you and traded places with you. “My turn!”

You hum as she tightens the corset around you, eyes flickering up toward the mirror when you hear the door creak open. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hi, my love.” He pressed a kiss to your hand and then one to Charlie’s forehead. “Hi, apple pie.” He watched his daughter tug on the strings attached to the corset, moving forward when it seemed like you were going to fall from the platform. “Charlie, what are you doing to your mother?”

“Pulling her corset tight—“ She grunted as she held the string in place, tying the back. “There.” You gave her a thumbs up as she finished, watching her glow at your silent praise.

“Gorgeous as always.” Lucifer stole you from your platform, the devil’s tail wrapping around your waist.

“You know? Vaggie is probably looking for me! I should leave…” Charlie let out an awkward laugh and fled for the door. “Text me when you need me for the entrance!”

Lucifer dipped you down, chuckling when you let out a noise of surprise. “You look breathtaking, my love. Maybe we should just skip the gala and do better activities right here—“

“Lucifer!” You lightly smack his chest, face flushed from his words. “You horny devil!”

“Says the queen of Hell.” He captured you in a quick kiss, red lipstick staining his lips. “Come on, Charlie can handle it on her own.” He squeezed your hips as you walked over to the vanity with his head resting on your bare shoulder.

You glance at your beloved with a soft look, “Luce, we didn’t coordinate a whole gala just to have our daughter host it herself.” You clip on a pair of earrings, the golden snake and apple shining through the light. “We also didn’t have these outfits made for us just for them to be wasted away on our bedroom floor.”

“I mean…” He nipped on your exposed shoulder, earning a gasp and glare. “They made you a maroon dress with a slit exposing your legs, my love.”

“Because it matches your maroon and black suit.” You turn in his arms and tug at his lapels. “Which I have to admit, kinda does it for me.”

He smirked as he slowly pushed you up against the vanity, “Yeah? Maybe we should ditch.”

“Nope.” Your hands clasped behind his neck, eyes widening when you feel one of his hands trail down to your exposed leg. “Luce…”

“You started this.” He slotted himself between your legs and continuously peppered kisses to your collarbone and neck, softly sucking. “You’re a tease.”

“Lucifer—“ Your protests were cut off with a quiet moan, but you quickly covered your mouth when hearing him chuckle. “Nope, we’re leaving now.”

Lucifer separated from you, a wide grin adorning his face as he scanned you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “Let’s go then, my love.”

You raised a brow but didn’t protest, letting him wrap his arm around your waist to guide you toward the ballroom. You both were quickly accompanied by your daughter as you made your way to the landing of the grand stairway.

The lights flashed off and the spotlight projected on the Morningstar family, the crowd’s voice hushed when spotting the monarchy. Lucifer gave a welcoming speech to the sinners, overlords, and sins who attended, making sure to mention his family and how they helped make the gala entirely possible. Final rounds of applause echoed through the ballroom as Lucifer finished off, letting everyone go back to their socialization and dancing.

“Mom,” Charlie caught you before you could follow Lucifer to greet his fellow sins. “Did you… Do you know why… You have bruises on your neck.” She finally mumbled out, eyes not meeting yours.

You felt yourself warm from embarrassment. Not only did your daughter tell you that you have hickeys on your neck, but you stood in the blinding lights with an audience staring at the three of you. No doubt photographers caught this and snapped photos for the internet. “Thank you for telling me, baby. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to murder your father.”

“Mom—“

You scanned the room before your gaze zeroed on Lucifer. He was laughing with Asmodeus before meeting your gaze and gave you a wink. Oh, he was going to pay.

“Lucifer.” You appear by his side. You give his fellow sin a quick smile but turn back to the little devil with a scowl. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” He wrapped an arm around your waist. “It was nice catching up with you, Oz.”

You guided Lucifer back to a secluded hallway, eyes flashing bright red when you were alone. Within a blink of an eye, you had Lucifer pinned against the wall with your forearm.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to know that I went out there with bruises all over my neck? Or, better yet, that our daughter was the one who told me what was on my neck?” You seethed. You were beyond embarrassed and pissed, you’re surprised you haven’t become a full demon yet.

“To be fair, it was more than just your neck—“

“LUCIFER!” You use your free hand to reach up your collarbone. The room felt ten times warmer, and it didn’t help that you felt Lucifer’s devil tail decided to wrap around your calf.

He remained pinned on the wall, giving you a cheeky grin. “This is really hot.”

“Oh, my god!” You release him with a glare. “There’s going to be photos everywhere! What will the public think about—“

“Lucky king?” He shrugged as he let his fingers trail up your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Listen, we’ll get rid of the photos. But is it really a crime to show off what’s mine?”

You grumble a small response, propping your head on his shoulder. “You’re crazy, Luce.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He chuckled.

The photos never made it outside of Pride Manor, but the teasing you received from the other sins made you flush every time. Lucifer listened to each jeer, a smirk present on his face from the constant reminder that you were in fact his.

Especially when the bruises scattered around you spelled out his initials.

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k66-official · 2 months

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*hands giroro a blåhaj*

I'll take it. Sharks are pretty badass.

#sgt frog #keroro gunso #giropost #doropost #do i tag him? i mean he doesn't show up but you can hear him #whatever. i don't feel like askin' keroro if that's right #anyway. what am i supposed to do with this thing. it's like twice my size where do i put it #-g66 #and now a word from our host:#yes i sent this ask myself i wanted to post for this blog but nothing was striking my fancy #of course i am hopelessly dependent on the shonk

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hyp3rfixation-h3ll · 9 months

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Botbots screenshot dump pt 5: Clogstopper! 🪠🧦 (+ his puppet!) Fifth but certainly not least of the official Lost Bots, is the one and only Clogstopper! Sorry this took so long @__@ ( i've been juggling this + another couple botbots projects, ehe!)

Up next'll be the Honorary Lost Bots! Bots that belong to other squads, but are friends with the main 5 :]

As always, these are f2u w/ 0 credit, but reblog this post if you're going to use them! <- PREV • NEXT ->

#botbots tag 🏪#resources #screenshot dump #screencaps #botbots #tf botbots #transformers botbots #clogstopper #transformers #and now a word from our host!#HE'S SO RECTANGULAR I ACTIVELY *STRUGGLED* TO PHOTOGRAPH HIM #BOY YOU SO ▭#quite happy with the ones i got though :o) i rlly wanted to get his king of the botbots crown

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crazyk-imagine · 8 months

Text

Napping and Cooking

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Straw hat!reader

Characters: Vinsmoke Sanji, Straw hat!reader, Monkey D. Luffy, Roronora Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Arlong

Warnings: Fluff, fighting, the asshole Arlong, Sanji being subtlety flustered, you take lots of naps, Sanji being adorable as hell, everyone worrying over you, protect Nami plan is a go, Sanji being like a boyfriend but nothing's official

Word Count: 1,849

A/N: Reader sleeps a lot because her abilities take up a lot of her energy.

Reader also had a lot of hair and it sometimes gets in their face so she has to flip their head upside down and then back up or run their hand through their hair to see.

Reader has a jacket like Mihawk but it goes down to her knees otherwise she'll trip

This man... is something else

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

You enter the restaurant and slip past the host in search of your crew. You can hear Luffy and know exactly where they are. You stand in front of the table, "you guys ditched me."

"You were still sleeping," says Luffy.

"You didn't wake me up," you tell them with a pout.

"We tried to," Nami tells you.

"You’re the one that wouldn’t wake up," Zoro adds, glancing at you; wondering if you’ll even make it through the meal.

Sanji glances your way and notices your figure standing in front of an unattended table.

He admires your jacket as he heads over.

"Fine, you tried. Now move over, stretchy." You try to move him only to fail, which your captain laughs at. You roll your eyes and walk over him, Usopp being kind enough to scooch over, so you have room.

You sit at the top of the booth. You didn't realize it, but you zoned out until Nami smacked your leg. Your jaw drops as you rub the spot. "Ow. Was that necessary?"

She gestures to the blond standing in front of the table.

"And for the madam?"

"What are we doing?"

Nami and Zoro roll their eyes.

"We're ordering our drinks," Usopp tells you.

"Ah, right. Water."

"And would the madam like stilled, sparkling, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?"

The corner of your lip twitches. "Well, aren’t we sweet? You want to please all the ladies you, see?"

His head drops, he glances at the ground before looking back up, staring at you through his lashes and hair. "Only the ones who entice me with their beauty."

"I'll let you surprise me."

"Excellent choice, madam. You will not be let down."

"I know I won't."

"What was that?" Zoro asks.

"What?" You turn to him.

He starts rattling off everything Sanji said.

"He was being polite."

"To you," the orange haired girl mutters.

"Huh?"

"He only called me madam once and then you stole his attention. Clearly there was something about you that caught his eye."

"I don’t think so."

Every single kind of water he offered was brought to the table.

After Zoro loses the battle and the head chef along with the blond come in to help him, you two start talking each time he's here.

"I smell food," you lean against the doorway.

He chuckles, "I would certainly hope so. You're the only one who hasn't eaten. Are you worried that worried about your friend?"

"Of course, I'm worried about the idiot but not enough to lose too much sleep over him. My abilities take up a lot of my energy and sleeping helps me. I was napping."

He nods, "ah, now that makes sense." He glances up from the ingredients he grabbed. "Would you like to eat something?"

You nod, "I would, kind of why I came down here."

"I know. How do you feel about exposing your palate to an array of flavors?"

"I think I made a mistake."

He shakes his head, smiling. "Nonsense. I'm going to make you an unforgettable meal."

You were up on the roof when Argon and his crew entered.

You secure the rope around your waist before jumping down. "Why are you picking on people less than half your size?"

"Who are you?"

"Someone who's already kicked your bony nosed ass."

He growls, realizing who you are.

"You want to fight someone? Fight me," you smirk. "I'm a better opponent than stretchy." You tug at the rope, rolling it up. "Come on, then. Try to hit me."

He comes at you, and you dodge him.

Again.

And again.

He growls before his hand clamps down on your jacket (something you made sure happened on purpose).

"Don't touch my jacket."

"Why? You gonna cry if I do."

"No," you grab his hand and twist his wrist, "you might. Clone shift."

He's baffled at the sight of him, standing before him. "Stop it. Turn back."

"Nope."

He and Luffy are outside before you can stop him.

"Hey, you two idiots."

His crew turns to you, eyes widening at the sight of their captain even though he just walked out the door.

You punch the two of them hard enough for them to roll on the dock outside the restaurant.

You walk over to check on Sanji and Usopp, the former taking a big hit on his back.

"Are you two-" you groan and hold onto the railing as you shift back to yourself.

Blood catches the story teller's eye. "Did you take some of Zoro's cut?"

All the pain in his body left him as the blond urges forward to catch you.

"So, what? It's nothing. I can take it."

"You overexerted yourself enough already. Come on," Sanji says, helping you up.

"Are we going to help Luffy?"

"We are, you're not."

You let out a small disagreeing noise.

"Don't argue with me."

You all catch the sight of the energetic captain falling into the water and rush over.

Sanji's quicker than you and takes action. He throws off his shirt and jacket before diving in.

You force yourself to stay awake and not pass out.

His head pops up back in the surface.

Usopp helps haul the rubber man onto the dock.

You hold a handout for the chef, but he doesn't take it. "Where's Nami?"

"She's gone. She's apart of Arlong's crew," Usopp tells Luffy.

Sanji's body slumps down, his butt resting on the heels of his feet.

Dots cloud your vision and your feet sway, you knew the second you cloned, you were done.

Sanji and Usopp catch you before you could fall.

The blond man leaning down to listen to your heartbeat and make sure you're- "She's still breathing."

"She," Luffy takes a deep breath, his voice coming out scratchy. "She did too much."

"We need to get you two back on your ship."

You wake up and find yourself in your room.

You sit up, finding no one else here.

You grab your jacket and make your way to the kitchen.

"He convinced you?"

Sanji jumps, not expecting you to be awake. "Are you hungry?"

You nod and slowly make your way over to the couch. "No objections. I'll take whatever the chef makes."

"That can get dangerous if you say that to the wrong person."

"Good thing I'm just talking to you."

The corner of his lips twitch as gets back to work.

"Hey, I just-" Usopp smiles when he sees you here. "You're up. How're feeling?"

"Hungry and tired."

"The usual, cool. I wasn't worried, at all." He stops in front of the chef. "What's new on today's menu?"

"Not for you."

He gasps, "rude. I fought in that battle too, you know."

"You crawled away like a bug being found under a log."

He whines when you out him.

The other two enter the kitchen.

Zoro glances at you, "you're an idiot."

"Way to make a girl feel special asshole."

"You're going to have a scar."

"You're welcome for making sure you don't die because of your own mistake, moron."

He leans against the wall, watching over everyone.

Luffy stretches his arms out to hug you, letting his body slam into you. "You're awake. Are you okay? You passed out. Is that always normal?"

Usopp smacks the captain, "get off her. She just woke up, you're not helping."

"Food is ready."

"Time to eat!"

"No," Sanji smacks Luffy with the dish towel. "The lady gets hers first."

You stick your tongue out at your friend. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

"Other than my good looks."

The green haired man rolls his eyes, "would you stop flirting and feed the idiot before he steals the food."

"Not until the lady gets hers."

"The lady will be fine."

"You call yourself a man. A true man would make sure-"

You flick the two of them on their foreheads. "Shut up."

You give Luffy and Usopp their bowls, "eat you animals."

"Oh, we told the town of your sacrifice," you explain to Nami.

"We didn't know. Could you ever forgive us?" The guard asks.

"This is going to be a massacre," the orange haired girl says.

"For them," you crack your knuckles. "I got this."

Usopp thins his lips, "I don't think so. You're just gonna lose consciousness again."

"Why don't I knock you unconscious?"

Sanji steps forward and pulls you off the side. "Excuse her, she was woken up from a nap." He covers your ears. "She's cranky."

You smack his hands off you.

You sit on the wall, watching as everyone fights. It was the smart move, save more of your energy.

It was only when they started bad mouthing Nami that you really started getting fired up. "Woah! Hey! Hey!" You grab a rock and throw it at the fishman's head. "Don't bad mouth my friend!"

Sanji removes his jacket without removing his gaze.

"Now you've done it," Zoro mumbles.

You jump down and walk towards the green haired man.

Sanji doesn't stop until the fishman has been taken care of.

Zoro judges the chef, with him calling out his finishing move.

"Ignore him. You did good, Sanji."

He lowers his head, unable to respond to your comment.

Zoro shakes his head, not in the mood to deal with his pining.

Usopp makes his way back to you.

"Nice of you to join us."

The storyteller smiles. "Yeah, just- uh- wish I didn't miss so much of this."

You glance at Zoro and raise a brow, both of you knowing that he doesn't mean it.

The green haired man just gives him a look of disappointment.

Nami runs away from the deteriorating building and glances back over her shoulder. She turns back and runs towards you guys.

Sanji opens his arms with a smile, "Nami!"

She ignores him and throws her arms around the second in command and storyteller.

You offer him a sorry look before turning around at the sound of her calling your name. "Are you okay?" You ask.

Instead of replying she throws her arms around you, holding you tightly. "Thank you."

"Why?"

"You and Luffy gave me something I never thought I could have."

You smile. "Alright kid, get off me." You wipe her under eyes, making sure no one knew how much she was crying. You pat Sanji's shoulder, "she just doesn't know you yet."

"That would make sense."

"Where's Luffy?"

"He's still in there, fighting Arlong."

You huff, "why can't he wait for help?" You groan and start to take a step forward when they stop you.

The chef grabs your wrist and pulls you back. "Nope."

"Are you nuts?" Usopp asks. "I mean seriously. You want to fight that fishman?!"

"I'm not going to let Luffy-" The building collapses. "Great! My oldest friend is-"

"Nami! We are you're friends! We are your crew!"

"Still alive! Yay!" You jump up and down before throwing yourself into the blond's arms.

"Look who finally got their hug."

"Shut up, Nami."

Continue to: Part II

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #one piece imagines #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji imagine #sanji imagines #sanji fanfic #sanji fanfiction #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #crazyk-imagine

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maiko-san · 2 months

Text

Catnap + Dogday x Reader ( Part 5 )

<<< Part 4 , Part 6 >>>

Relationship : Fluff

Warning : ⚠️ Mention of blood / gore, human experiments ⚠️

Plot : You were sleeping until you woke up and realised you weren't in the infirmary anymore

Catnap has made his decision, he decides to pay you a visit. Even if it is just a mere minute.

This is the only time he disobeyed The Prototype, surely his god would understand, right?

He had pleaded The Prototype to spare you out of all humans in the facility.

The Prototype accepted it but he won't assure about your survival during the massacre. Whatever happens to you will be Catnap's responsibility.

How about he convince you to join him? To be in the team and follow The Prototype?

It makes Catnap feel happy at the thought of the person he loves joining the team.

Just you and him, might even Dogday if he ever joined the group.

Wait...What if you refuse? Surely you wouldn't, right? If you refuse then he will force you. Yeah, definitely because he wants you safe.

Even it means dragging you down to the deepest and darkest of the Playtime Co, just to keep you safe.

As soon Catnap reaches the infirmary, he peeks his head in the room only to find it empty.

"...Star?"

You weren't in the room, where could you have gone to? Then, his nose picks up a familiar scent.

No...it cannot be.

His pupils dilate as he quickly crawls through the vents and makes his way towards the laboratory.

You hear voices around you which causes you to wake up.

All you see was the white ceiling instead of the colourful ones, you tried to move your body but you couldn't.

"You're finally awake"

You turn your head to the source and see one of the higher ups, a man in lab coat. You've seen him before but where...?

.....

If you remember correctly, you've seen him in the organisation chart and also on the papers you always work on.

"Dr. Sawyer...?"

"Oh, so you know me... interesting"

In his hand, he held a clipboard. He jotted something on the paper before looking down on you.

You are confused.

What's happening?

Where are you? What is this place? Why are you....here?

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions on your mind. You are in the Bigger Body Initiative programming room"

"Bigger...Body Initiative?"

"We've been monitoring you for quite a long time, now. It's quite hard to find someone that is compatible with our program. We have finally found a suitable host for our newest mascot, you are...perfect"

"Host...m-mascot? W-what are you saying?!"

You have to escape. If you stay you will never know what they will do to you!

Then, the metal doors before you open and came in a doll....

An angel doll with a pair of wings and a golden halo on top of her head, the doll is very beautiful like an angel as it is.

"All the children needed now is an angel to protect them, guide them and help the Playtime Co flourish. Your personality will become handy and guide the children to a better future for the company"

Every word he's saying, you don't like it one bit....

Dr. Sawyer leaves the room, saying you should get accustomed to the doll first.

You begin tugging on the belt on your wrist but they are too tight. You stare up at the ceiling above you.

You cannot escape....

You don't have anything on you to help you escape.

You slowly take in your surroundings, there is a table next to you full of operating equipment, which makes you pale.

Are they going to dissect you and sell your organs?!

Hell no!

"Help! Please!"

You cried out for help, though your voice fell into deaf ears. Tears start pouring out from your eyes, is this how you will die?

Plap, plap, plap.

Your ears pick up a pitter patter on the floor, you look down only to see a plush version of Catnap staring up at you with its beady black eyes.

Did...the plush just....moved?

Then, it tilts its head causing you to flinch in surprise.

The plush begins to climb on the table and hops on to you, you begin to panic and close your eyes, waiting for the pain to come.

Clack!

The straps on your wrists were loose and you open your eyes to see Catnap plush gnawing on the leather strap on your ankle.

Freeing you.

With your hands free, you quickly unstrap the belt on your other leg and hop off the bed. You walk over to the door but it won't open.

"F*ck!"

You begin to look around and notice a vent but it's high up, you can't reach it even if you climb on the table.

What are you going to do?!

You feel a soft tap on your ankle and you look down to see Plushnap, nudging your leg before pointing up at the vent.

You told it you can't reach it.

Then, Plushnap does a throwing motion before holding out its tail and stretches it with its paws.

It doesn't take you long to know what it was thinking.

Now, you hold Plushnap with your strong hand as the toy wraps its tail tightly around your wrist.

"Are you ready, buddy?"

*nods*

You give your best swing and throw Plushnap towards the vent as it tail stretches like a rope, the toy grabs hold on to the vent door as you begin to tug on its tail.

The vent door snaps open as you watch Plushnap crawl into the ventilation system, before you know it. You feel yourself being hoisted up.

How can a plush pull a full grown adult?!

Once you enter the vent, you feel arms dragging you and your face slams into rough fur.

That smells like lavender.

"Catnap?"

"Star....are you alright?"

You pull yourself off from the tight embrace and meet face to face with Catnap.

Before you could question him, he bites the back of your gown, holding you like you are a kitten and begins to crawl fast through the vents. ( you were so close to slip out of the hospital gown since it's just a piece of thin cloth )

"Catnap! W-what's happening and what is this place?!"

"....Not now, must.....get you... somewhere safe...stay quiet or...they'll hear us .."

Even though Catnap crawls through the vents fast, he doesn't make too much noise thanks to his soft paws and being lightweight unlike the other smiling critters. He was built to be silent so he doesn't wake up the sleeping orphans while he does his patrols in the night.

You look through the gap of the vent doors to see people in lab coats.

Who are these people? You know they have a science department but....these people are.....different.

Then, your eyes widen when you pass a vent door. You see a dissected body of a child....

Your hand slaps your mouth, you were horrified at the sight. Next to the dissected body is a bloody toy that has organs in it.

Are they...putting human organs into toys?

What kind of madness is this?

Are they...no, are they using the orphans for sick experiments?!

All the sudden, the alarm went off.

"Did they know?!"

"....No"

"Containment has been breached. Experiment 1006 has breached containment. All personnel please evacuate immediately and go towards the nearest evacuation centre, this is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill"

Catnap then tosses you over his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Hold...me...tight...."

The feline slams his paw on the vent door and jumps down on the ground.

You see people running around and being attacked by....the toys.

Your eyes widen in horror at the sight of the toys biting and clawing onto the scientists, tearing and pulling on their skin. You could see flesh and muscles, even bones!

There's so much....blood.

Suddenly, something covers your face and it was a mask. You try to pry it off but something doesn't let you do so.

"Must...wear mask..."

Catnap said into your ears, you see a thick cloud of red smoke coming out from his mouth and it begins to fill the entire hallway.

Some of the scientists begin to drop down after they inhale the red smoke. You watch as the toys begin to bite down on their motionless body like a pack of hungry hyenas.

You were breathing heavily at the horrific sight, the small toys had come to life and kills everyone.

You can hear bloodcurdling screams in the distance, some were calling for help.

Catnap's eyes look at your form, he can see your pale face through the mask and your entire body shaking like a leaf. He has to do something, he didn't expect it happen now.

Maybe ...using the red smoke on you could help you...just a little whiff.

He can manipulate your dream, yeah. He makes sure that everything was a nightmare.

Yes, he will do it.

"Catnap?"

You feel the mask loosen and the smell of the red smoke begins to enter your airway. Then, you start to feel drowsy and the next thing you know.

Everything turns black.

A/n : I'm sorry for not updating for a long time, I had a writer's block for the past days. I apologise for that 😭. I know this is a short chapter and I will do better next time, I hope this stupid a** writer's block goes away soon.

For those who send me asks, I will answer them soon.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #smiling critters catnap #poppy playtime catnap #catnap #catnap x reader #dogday x reader #smiling critters x reader #poppy playtime x reader #various x reader #reader insert

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roosterforme · 2 months

Text

Whole Lotta Love | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley were just friends, and perhaps that was why you trusted him so much. It wasn't his fault that you were secretly harboring a crush a mile wide. When your noisy neighbor becomes too much and you decide you need to move, Bradley helps you brainstorm a solution. But when you set your plans into action, you're surprised to find that he seems almost jealous.

Warnings: Adult language, angst, fluff, drinking, mentions of masturbation

Length: 8600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @mak-32

"I need to move."

Bradley looked up at your annoyed expression as you dropped your lunch tray a little violently onto the cafeteria table across from him with a clatter. The top piece of bread slid off your sandwich as you sat down with a pout.

"Like to a new apartment?" he asked, reaching over to straighten out your silverware and napkin. "Didn't we just help you move a few months ago, Sparrow?"

For some reason that set you off as your clenched fist bumped the edge of the tray, messing everything up again. "Yes, to a new apartment, Rooster! And yes, I just moved six months ago, but I can't take another day of this shit."

"What's wrong?" Jake asked where he was inhaling his food right next to you like he had a vendetta against it.

You sighed, and the sound was so soft and sweet compared to your frustrated expression, Bradley almost laughed. "The guy who lives above me is an aspiring wedding DJ. Do you have any idea what that means for my sleep schedule?"

"Oh shit," Javy groaned from your other side. "Are you getting Cupid Shuffle all night long?"

"Coyote," you whined, "he makes his own remixes! At four in the morning! When I asked him to stop, he said he was perfecting his artform, but that he'd turn the volume down a smidge. Meanwhile, I moved into my current apartment, because my old neighbors were hosting woodworking retreats in their living room!"

Now Bradley really was laughing. "You need a break? You can come sleep over at my place tonight."

You were finally smiling now as you said, "Thanks Rooster, but I've seen the wrong side of your couch before. I had a long, long night in your living room after the holiday party."

"So don't get drunk first this time," he replied easily, remembering that night vividly. You let him carry you into his house from his Bronco while you whispered the lyrics to Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin really slowly to him. It was funny and somehow a little hot at the same time. He liked it a little too much. "Or you can just sleep in my bed."

Your eyes went a little wide. "With you?"

"Of course not," he replied quickly, hoping he wasn't blushing. "We're just friends. I could take the couch for one night so you can have a break. If you want."

You and he really were just friends. You were friends with all the guys. They all loved you and your humor, and you were a hell of a good WSO. Bradley didn't even fly with a backseater, but he always liked getting paired with you and Omaha. You had an ease about you, and it even translated to the way you took a massive bite out of your sandwich after you said, "Maybe I'll just sneak in and break DJ Insomnia's turntables."

Then you smiled at Bradley while you chewed your food, and Javy and Jake started to make up a song about DJ Insomnia. You laughed when they tried to rhyme 'slumber' with 'nightmare', but you were still looking at Bradley as if he was in on some inside joke with you. Your eyes twinkled when he nudged your leg with his boot underneath the table.

"Hey, I'll be more than happy to help you move again, Sparrow, but I think you ought to at least consider having me over around three in the morning with my keyboard. I'll bring these two idiots with me as well, and we can all sing at the top of our lungs until your neighbor moves out."

You tipped your head back and laughed. "Oh, Rooster. You're the sweetest, but he'd probably actually enjoy that."

Now Bradley was definitely blushing as he looked down at his lunch, and he wasn't really sure why.

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

You gathered your things together for the night as soon as you heard your neighbor playing the Electric Slide. If he was already starting at seven o'clock, you needed to get out now. You shoved clean underwear and some random clothing into your backpack before you stopped in the bathroom and grabbed the essentials. Bradley's couch had never sounded better to you in your life, but if he felt like offering up his bed, then even better. Hell, you'd curl up in there with him at this point. What difference did it make? It wasn't like anything physical was ever going to happen.

He was one of the boys, and you loved them all. It wasn't Bradley's fault that his sun kissed skin and wavy hair were kind of your thing. If they were attached to another man, you'd probably have made a move, but he was your friend. Sure, you'd thought about it before, when you were alone in bed and it was very, very late. He was attractive and hilarious, and you were only human. But some things were sacred.

"Yeah, like peace and quiet," you growled as you stomped down your hallway. You grabbed your keys and headed out, zipping along to Bradley's house in record time. You were obsessed with his place which was complete with flower boxes underneath the front windows and a pink front door that he never seemed to get around to repainting even though he mentioned it all the time.

You hauled yourself up to his porch with your half zipped backpack and bad attitude and pounded on his door. You had a spare key somewhere in the bottom of your purse, but you didn't feel like digging for it. When he didn't answer, you pounded again, a little harder this time.

"Yeah?" he asked, his tone gruff as the door flew open. "Sparrow," he muttered, his voice much softer with your call sign attached to it. "Hey."

But you didn't register too much besides the fact that he was standing there in nothing but a pair of snug boxer briefs with damp hair and skin that smelled delicious just inches away from you. "Hi," you said, sounding as mesmerized as you felt. Golden tan. Sparse chest hair. Perfectly groomed mustache. You wanted to lick him. Where on earth did that urge come from? You never thought about dragging your tongue along his chest and neck and all the way up to his lips. Except that you had... very, very late at night.

Fuck.

It wouldn't be worth messing things up. You forced your gaze up to his brown eyes. "I'm here for our sleepover," you said with as much normalcy as you could muster, but the response you got was Bradley's cheeks turning pink as he leaned away from the doorway so you could step inside. Then you came to a stop and looked at him again. He smelled really good. Like maybe he was wearing cologne. "Oh. Were you heading out? Do you have a date?"

His cheeks grew redder. "Um, no. Not at all. Of course not."

His answer sent a little wave of relief through your body. "Good." You winced at your response as you continued to his couch and set your bag down. "I mean, do you want to order a pizza or something?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Just let me get dressed. I'll be right back out."

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

You actually came over. With your backpack full of your stuff. Bradley wasn't expecting you to take him up on his offer, and now he was doubly flustered; he actually did plan a last minute date, and he just jerked off in the shower while thinking about you.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He didn't start off thinking about you. It just kind of happened. At first, he was thinking about a faceless girl sitting on his lap with her hand in his underwear, and then suddenly she did have a face. Your face. And then she had your voice. And then he pictured the two of you on his actual couch. And it was definitely you giving him a handjob in his shower fantasy, and he came all over the tile wall like it was your face. He was lucky you didn't let yourself in with your spare key in time to hear him moaning your name.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked his reflection in the bedroom mirror. He looked wild. Slightly deranged. His pupils were huge, and his cheeks were hot pink. How the hell was he supposed to eat pizza with you while he was thinking about you on his lap?

But the fact that he wanted nothing more than to eat pizza and drink beers with you solidified the fact that he needed to cancel his date with Erin. He was so stupid for doing this. She was a viable option for someone to date. You were not. But he was apparently going to torture himself anyway as he texted her Hey, sorry this is last minute, but I need to reschedule.

He didn't wait for a response as he made his way back to his living room where you had already cracked open a can of beer from the refrigerator and made yourself at home on the couch. You were wearing what you always wore when you didn't have on a flight suit, just yoga pants and a baggy tee shirt. It shouldn't have been cute, but it was.

You smiled up at him as you nudged the unopened can of beer on the coffee table with your blue painted toenail. "I got you one."

He poked your foot with his finger and picked up the beer as he said, "Yeah, it's the least you could do since you helped yourself to my fridge."

When he dropped down onto the couch next to you, his weight on the cushions had you colliding into him. "Sorry," you murmured, your hand coming to rest on his abs as you pushed yourself back into place like it was nothing. Meanwhile, he broke out in a nervous sweat. "What do you want to watch?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, handing you the remote. Then he grinned and said, "Or we could skip the TV, and I could get my keyboard out and play Cupid Shuffle for you. Maybe try my hand at a remix." You tipped your head back and pretended to cry before you started laughing. "What's the matter? I'm sure I'll sound better than your neighbor. Give it a chance, Sparrow," he teased.

You turned to face him on the couch, still laughing with your beer can resting against his bicep. "First of all, no. Please. No. Absolutely not. Second, has anyone ever told you how adorable it is that you have a keyboard that you actually play?"

"I tell myself that all the time," he replied, trying hard not to smile as you laughed. "I say, 'Bradley, you're adorable. I think it's so cool that you want to relive your piano lessons from middle school. Maybe you should get braces again, too.'"

You were cackling now as you gasped, "Stop it."

He sipped his beer and shook his head. "Of course nobody has ever said my keyboard is adorable. It's the nerdiest thing a guy in his thirties could possibly own, and only like five people in total know about it."

With tears in your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so happy I'm one of those five people."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself," he muttered with a smile as he took the remote back and turned on the Padres game. You were still giggling softly as you settled in next to him again. "You want pizza?" he asked.

"I've never said no to pizza," you replied easily, your thigh rubbing gently against his.

"My treat."

"You always say it's your treat. I'll get it this time."

"Nah, you've got to save up your money so you can move out of your apartment, remember?" he asked as he placed the order on his phone.

"How could I forget?" you moaned. "Your house is so nice, I wish I could evict you and move in here."

He set his phone aside and kicked his feet up onto his coffee table. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "That would be a pretty rude thing to do to the guy who always buys your pizza."

Your side eye was impeccable as you said, "It's not like you'd be destitute. I'd let you live with DJ Insomnia. Now I just need a way to make money fast."

Bradley shook his head as the baseball game went to a commercial. "There's no such thing, Sparrow. Nothing legal anyway, and Uncle Sam pays your salary."

You were tapping your beer can with your finger and biting your lip gently, and Bradley's mind drifted back to his shower fantasy. You hummed softly, and he could practically feel the weight of your body settling onto his lap. That's what he wanted. You and he could finish this discussion with you straddling his thighs and his tongue in your mouth.

He should have gone out with Erin. He should have just admitted that he had a date and told you that you could hang out here while he was gone, because now he was getting his hopes up as your leg bumped his again. He knew he was blushing when he looked at you, so he turned back to the TV just in time for the beginning of a Hooters commercial.

"Wow," you mused with a little snicker as you gestured toward the parade of tits with your beer can. "That really got your attention."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "No, it didn't."

"Seriously? That's a lot of boobs, Rooster. You think we should contact the ad agency and tell them they should feature a few more?"

He turned and looked at you, and you started cracking up again. "I think it was actually just the right amount of boobs," he said, trying really hard not to look at your chest.

You forced your face into a neutral expression. "Do you like to go to Hooters?"

Bradley groaned and tried to stand up but you reached for his arm and tugged him closer to you instead. "Why do you think it's fun to pick on me?"

"I'm not really sure, but it's great," you replied. "Didn't all the guys go to Hooters for Jake's birthday?"

"Yeah," he replied with a laugh. "Jake got completely fucking wasted and proposed to our waitress. Then he tried to write his number on a napkin for her, but it looked like hieroglyphics. He even tried to follow her into the kitchen at one point, and Javy had to go get him. At least he left her a two hundred dollar tip for being so annoying."

You gaped at him and set your empty beer can on the coffee table. "Two hundred bucks? Oh my god, do you realize how fast I could buy my own place with guys like Jake around if I worked at Hooters?"

Bradley sat up a little straighter and watched as your eyes lit up while you watched the end of the commercial before the Padres game came on again. "You wouldn't want guys... fussing over you like that, would you?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I can handle myself."

"That's not what I meant. I just-" He cut himself off. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell you he was already jealous just thinking about it? He definitely couldn't admit that. So instead he said, "Your boobs are too good for Hooters. You should keep them in your flight suit."

Now you were looking down at your body and running your hands up your belly to your chest, and Bradley was entranced as he watched you squeeze yourself through your tee shirt like it didn't even matter if he was there or not. You must have trusted him implicitly as you looked at him with sad eyes and said, "You're probably right. Guys know best about this kind of thing, and flight suits are a catch-all for making everyone's body look identical. Maybe it's better to just keep blending in."

He felt like a jerk, because that's not what he meant at all. He wanted to tell you that you were beautiful and that you'd probably make enough money in two weeks to buy the house of your dreams in those orange booty shorts and the tiny tops, but he couldn't. He wanted to kiss that little pout from your lips, but he wouldn't. Instead he said, "Let's keep brainstorming?"

"Yeah, thanks," you whispered, letting your lips brush against his cheek, and Bradley jumped about a mile into the air when there was a knock at the front door.

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

You and Bradley had given up on the Padres game. Now you were turned so you were facing each other with pizza and paper plates and more cans of beer. "Okay, you hear how quiet your house is? You hear how nobody is annoying the shit out of you right now? No turntables or amplifiers anywhere?"

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. His cheeks had been perpetually pink all night, and it was really distracting. You had to keep reminding yourself that he thought you'd look better in your shapeless flight suit than in a Hooters uniform, and it kind of broke your heart every single time. But that's what you needed.

You forced a smile as you said, "I want this kind of peace in my life. So give me your best brainstorming ideas for how I can make some more money. Go."

"What about cage fighting?" he asked before he took an enormous bite of pizza.

"Cage fighting?" you balked. "Maybe you don't think much of my face, but I happen to like it the way it is!"

His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. "I do like your face, Sparrow. I was just joking."

He still looked concerned as you waved him off and asked, "What if I started bartending again? Like I did in college?"

Bradley shrugged. "You'll get just as many guys creeping on you at a bar."

You nibbled on your pizza crust and thought about your options. "What if it's the right kind of bar though? One with bouncers and security guards and everything, and oh my god! I've got it!"

"What?"

You watched him fold another slice of pizza in half and devour it as you said, "The Beauty Bar."

He froze with his mouth full and started shaking his head. "No," he said as soon as he swallowed. "That's like Hooters, but the girls dance. On the bar."

"Exactly," you told him, letting your hand rest on his knee. "Bigger tips and buffer security guards. Just think about it, Rooster. I could play one of the characters and have my own unique outfit. It's mostly just bartending, but the breaks for dancing would be so fun."

He looked a little constipated, and you almost laughed when he asked, "What kind of outfit?"

You tried to remember the girls from the only time you'd been there. "I think there was a cowgirl and a schoolgirl? Or like a dirty librarian?"

Bradley leaned a little closer to you and said, "Maybe you should reconsider the cage fighting. I could get you like a hockey mask to wear?" He ran his fingertip gently down the side of your face. "You know, to keep you safe?"

"I wouldn't last one round," you told him with a grin. "Besides, The Beauty Bar is mostly filled with bachelorette parties and girls having a fun night out. I think I'll call them or stop by tomorrow and see what they say."

Bradley dropped his hand from your face and muttered, "I'll keep brainstorming. You feel like watching a movie?"

"Sure," you told him as you stretched. "You pick since you paid for the pizza."

A few seconds later, your favorite movie was queued up on the TV, and you tried to get him to look at you, but he was actively avoiding doing so as he tried not to smile. You were halfway on his lap with your hands on his cheeks when he finally met your eyes. "Thanks, Bradley. For the pizza and for the movie and the sleepover and everything."

"You're welcome," he whispered softly. You thought about how good it would feel to kiss him, but you ended up laying on a pillow that was propped against his thigh instead. Less than halfway into the movie, you were sound asleep.

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

Bradley didn't want to move. You were sound asleep with your cheek pressed to his thigh, and a tiny little spot of drool darkened the fabric of his jeans next to your lips. You had pushed the pillow to the floor, and you had reached for his hand while you dozed.

He'd had a full blown crush on you for a while now. It was useless to try to deny it. But you had him in the friend zone along with Javy and Jake and all the rest of the guys, and he was sure that if he tried to level up, you'd smash him right back down where he belonged.

You were so cute, finally getting the sleep you deserved. Clearly you trusted him, which made him feel important, but he wanted to be important to you in every way.

When he tried to slide off the couch, you snuggled against him harder. When he tried to wake you up, you moaned and snoozed on. He got himself awkwardly into position to pick you up, and he hoisted you into his arms. Your hand rested on his chest, and your lips met his neck as you mumbled, "I'm sleepy."

"I know you are, Honey." The pet name just slipped out, but you didn't complain as he stood there in his living room trying to stave off an erection as you snuggled against him. "I'm taking you to my bed. You'll be more comfortable."

"M'kay."

Then he was treated to your half asleep rendition of Whole Lotta Love where most of the lyrics were wrong and it was pretty much completely off key. But you were singing it right next to his ear, and once again, he liked it more than he should. When he set you down on his bed, you immediately burrowed under the blankets like you slept in his room all the time, and he watched you curl up on your side.

Your eyes were closed as you whispered, "Aren't you getting in?"

He wanted to. He knew the feel of your body well enough to know that he'd love snuggling with you all night. But this friendship meant something to him. "Nah, I'll be out on the couch if you need me."

You didn't respond verbally, but you did nod, and Bradley kissed your temple. Then he grabbed a blanket from his closet and left you alone. His thoughts were a complete mess as he stepped out of his jeans and tossed them on the coffee table. He stretched out on his couch as much as he could, but then he thought about you wearing a Hooters uniform.

"Don't do it," he warned himself, but it was too fucking late. The little orange shorts and the tiny white shirts had been nice on the other girls, sure. But on you'd, they would be lethal for him.

The idea of you dressed as a cowgirl doing a little dance routine on a sticky bartop wasn't much better. Guys would be throwing tip money at you and begging you to make their drinks. They would all want to chat you up and try to touch you. Bradley would go through the roof if one of them did. But if this is what you wanted to do and it was going to help you reach your goal, then he was going to have to be supportive, even if it killed him.

After barely sleeping most of the night, Bradley was finally dozing when you walked out into the living room the next morning. His blanket ended up on the floor at some point, but you came right over to him where he was overflowing from the couch in just his undershirt and boxer briefs.

"You could have slept in your bed, too," you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. "You're too big for the couch."

He noted that you were wearing your backpack as he melted into your touch. "Are you leaving? I thought we could grab breakfast."

Now you were smiling. "I'm gonna run. I'm planning to stop at The Beauty Bar later and see if they're hiring any new bartenders. Thanks for everything."

With that, you kissed his forehead, and Bradley's eyes closed as soon as you went prancing out his front door into the sunlight. "I'll keep brainstorming," he groaned.

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

Your interview at the bar consisted of making three drinks and picking out a 'uniform' to wear. Some of the clothing was so tiny, it made the Hooters girls look modest by comparison. But they assured you that you'd love working there, so you accepted the position and took your new clothing home.

The first time you put on the black leather skirt that zipped all the way up the front along with the cropped shirt, you took it back off immediately. Could you mix cocktails in the outfit? Sure. Could you dance on the top of the bar for three minutes straight three times per night? Maybe not. But then you remembered that they told you some girls made up to five hundred bucks per shift. And then DJ Insomnia started on a remix of the Macarena right above you.

So you put the outfit back on again and decided that yes, you could do this. And maybe it would help to get a guy's perspective on the way you looked and your dance moves. You wanted to ask Bradley, but you didn't think you could handle the way he'd laugh about this. But there was something about the way he'd been concerned about you when you slept over at his place on Friday night. You almost felt protected. Cared for. God, you were already jealous of the woman he would eventually fall for, because she would be on the receiving end of all of his warm attention. And she'd get to live in that house with him. And he'd actually sleep in his bed with her, unlike the couch when you were there.

You rolled your eyes in the mirror and added some makeup to your face. This was so unlike you, falling for one of your friends. But you were tired of trying to fight it. And you still trusted his opinions. So you called him.

"Sparrow," he crooned when he answered your call.

"Rooster," you replied in your most matter of fact tone. "I was wondering if you could stop by for a few minutes and help me with something?"

"Right now?" he asked immediately.

You bit your lip before swiping some lipstick on while you said, "Whenever you have a chance."

"I'll be there soon."

He didn't let you down. He never did. Twenty minutes later, there were three taps on your apartment door, and then he was letting himself inside with the spare key you gave him months ago.

"Sparrow, it's me," he called out over the remix of Footloose. "Jesus. You weren't kidding. Your neighbor plays music like this all the time?"

"Yes," you shouted from your bedroom. "Constantly."

"I'm going to go up and have a little chat with him."

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup as you said, "Don't bother. I've tried so many times. All he's done is lower the volume the slightest bit."

Bradley's sarcastic laugh from your living room made you smile. "I'm sure I can get him to do whatever I say."

That was undoubtedly the truth. You also didn't want him to get arrested. When you ran out to see him, you had forgotten what you were wearing as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him.

Bradley's eyes were wide, and as soon as his hands settled on your bare waist, he pulled them right off again. "Holy shit. What the fuck is this?"

"Oh," you gasped, taking a nervous step away from him. "It's kind of my uniform. For my new bartending gig?" His cheeks were pink, his lips were parted, and he was gaping at you as he dragged his gaze up and down your body. "Is it bad?"

"Holy shit," he repeated. And then he said it one more time before he met your eyes. "Do you think it's bad?"

You winced and groaned. "I wasn't sure. But you're a guy. If you think it's awful, then I certainly don't want to wear it to my second job." He let out a strangled sound, and you started to turn back to your bedroom. "I'll stick to my flight suits."

You felt his fingers lace with yours before you heard his strained voice. "It's not bad, Sparrow. It's really fucking hot." You turned and looked at him, annoyed that you were feeling so vulnerable. He swallowed hard before he added, "You always look good."

He tugged you a little closer to him, and a smile found your lips. "I think I get it. It's hard to be objective when you're friends with someone. You'd probably like the outfit better on someone else."

Somehow his eyes went wider. "I really don't think that's it at all, actually," he whispered. Then DJ Insomnia started playing a remix that actually sounded good for once, and you tugged Bradley toward your couch with your linked fingers.

"Here, watch me dance real quick, and then we can just hang out."

"Okay," he grunted, taking a seat.

"Just pretend I'm someone else," you told him as you ran one hand down your side until your palm settled on your hip. You started to turn in a slow circle as you moved your hips to the music that made its way to your living room.

"I don't really want to do that."

You looked back at Bradley over your shoulder and caught him staring at your butt. "You don't?"

He shook his head slowly as you turned to face him, still dancing. "Hell no," he whispered, watching your face now. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth, and his dark gaze looked almost greedy, but he sat there and watched you dance, barely moving a muscle until you stopped along with the music.

"Well? What do you think?" you asked, holding your hands out to your sides.

He cleared his throat. "I think it's a good thing you don't have a boyfriend, because he'd already be jealous as fuck."

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

You looked exhausted every single day now. Bradley started to bring you extra coffee from his own kitchen to try to combat your near constant yawning and fatigue each morning. You weren't just battling through sleepless nights at your apartment with DJ Insomnia, you were also working all day as a WSO and frequently working late into the night at the bar.

"I'm a little worried about you," he murmured one morning as you sipped the coffee he made. "You're working too hard, Sparrow." He didn't want to put voice to the way he felt about your bartending shifts. He made it a point not to stop by and see you there even though you'd asked him to. But he desperately wished you would quit. Every time he thought about you in your little costume with your red, pouty lips, he got more jealous inside. He could just imagine dozens, maybe hundreds of pairs of eyes on you, and he didn't like the way he wanted to be the only one treated to that sight.

"I'm fine," you replied softly. "I've already made thousands in tip money, and it's only been two weeks." You tried to smile up at him, but it didn't quite meet your eyes. "I mean, it's not the best scenario, because sometimes the patrons get a little rowdy. But it's not the worst thing. I'll just keep it up for a few months or until I get deployed."

Bradley grunted. "Explain to me exactly how rowdy they get."

Now you were sipping your coffee and staring at the patches on his flight suit instead of looking at his face. "Well, nobody is supposed to touch us. But sometimes guys do try it. Especially when we're dancing. The bouncers are great and all, but they can only get over there so quickly."

Bradley leaned down until you were looking him in the eye. He knew he was no better than some random asshole at the bar. He was probably worse since he thought about you dancing for him every time he took a shower. But he couldn't stand how apprehensive you looked when you talked about that place. You never looked like that when you were alone with him.

"I think you should quit," he told you blandly.

"It's not that bad," you replied. "Maybe I'm not doing a good job of explaining it. Come visit one night, and I'll buy you a drink."

"Sparrow, literally the last thing I want to do is witness every drunk asshole at the bar trying to look up your skirt."

You scoffed. "I wear little booty shorts underneath it!"

He closed his eyes and grunted, "I could have lived without that visual." It would just add to his shower time fodder.

"Oh! You should come on Friday night," you said, patting him on the chest. "I'll invite all the guys! There are drink specials. Hey, Javy!"

You wandered away, and soon Bradley's fate was sealed. Javy, Jake, Mickey, Reuben and Bob were all planning on going to The Beauty Bar for happy hour, and he was expected to be there, too. It wasn't like it was your fault he was falling for you, so he was just going to have to go and be supportive. He'd make sure all the guys left you massive tips, too.

You were still exhausted on Friday morning, and Bradley didn't like the way you were yawning as you loaded into your jet. You were quieter now at work than you usually were, and he was tempted to tell you to start sleeping at his place to try to cut out some of your stress. Having you close by sounded good to him as well.

Maybe he'd hang out at your bar all night and take you home with him. He could carry you to his bed before retiring to the couch and pretending he was also in his bed. Maybe you would even serenade him with the song. You'd get a good night's sleep and then this never ending friendship loop would start all over again.

If he could think of a way to break the loop and turn it into a straight line that led to a relationship with you, he'd take it. That was probably the type of brainstorming he should be working on at this point since you were already working at the bar now. He was still trying to think of a way to tell you how he really felt without destroying the friendship as he drove his Bronco across the city to the extremely popular Beauty Bar.

"You're kidding," he muttered. There was a line to get inside, and he told you he'd be here by eight o'clock when the dancing started.

"Holy shit," Jake said as he and Javy headed up the sidewalk and got in line with him. "I guess there's no shortage of guys who want to look at Sparrow."

Javy nodded in agreement. "I mean, I don't really want to look at Sparrow, but I'll gladly take all the other girls."

That was literally the exact opposite of Bradley's thinking. He couldn't give a shit who else was working, his eyes would find you and stay there all night. Whether you were serving drinks, chatting with patrons or dancing, he'd be focused on nothing but you.

The guys all got their driver's licenses out, and the bouncer muttered, "Don't want any trouble from the three of you," as he checked them.

Shit, what the hell kind of place was this if you got warned at the door on your way in? But when he walked inside and saw how crowded it was along with the two random girls doing a line dance along the bar, he could kind of understand. It was mostly packed with guys, and Reuben, Mickey and Bob were waving them over. Bradley moved slowly through the crowd, and then he found you in your cute little outfit handing someone a beer, and his heart stopped.

Your smile looked like it was pasted on, but once you saw Bradley, your whole face lit up. You waved to him as you bounced up and down behind the bar, clearly excited that he was here. He started throwing his elbows and shoulders around to get to you, passing all of the other guys in the process.

"Rooster!" you called out over the music when he got closer. The two girls danced across the bar between you and him, but his focus didn't waver at all as he matched your smile. "Do you want a drink?"

He shrugged and said, "I kind of just wanted to see you."

"Oh," you replied, looking pleased enough that Bradley decided to push the boundary just a little bit.

"I don't really like it here, actually. If at any time you feel like quitting your job, I'll take you right to my place and let you sleep in peace and quiet again."

You poured a beer and handed it to him. "You don't like the girls?" you asked, glancing at the boots as they went by again.

"Not those ones."

You looked him dead in the eye and asked, "Which ones then?"

His fingers flexed on his pint of beer as someone tried to jostle him out of the way to get closer, but he didn't look away from you as he said, "Come on, Sparrow." His voice was a little rough, and now you looked confused. He would do it. He'd ruin everything just so you knew. But he didn't want you to feel bad for him.

Then someone called your first name, and you and he both turned to see an older woman holding up both hands. "I'm on in ten," you told him, reaching out to touch his fingers where they rested on the bar. "Let me take a few more drink orders before I have to dance."

"Right," he said. It was better that you didn't know. You were trying to make some money here, and he was already messing it up by talking to you for too long. "I'll catch you later."

He wandered off in the direction of the rest of the guys. "Yo, that blonde is so hot, and she made my drink perfectly," Mickey was saying as he drank something that looked fruity and sweet.

"I'm an equal opportunity aviator tonight," Jake drawled. "I see a girl in a little outfit, she gets my phone number."

"You're delusional is what you are," Bradley told him as he sipped his beer. "All of you better leave Sparrow a massive tip. Seriously. I'm not kidding."

He listened to the guys chat as he turned back toward the bar to check on you. It was almost time for you to dance, and his stomach was churning with anticipation and anxiety. He'd been dying to see you move like that again, but he could do without the memory of everyone else knowing how you looked when you shook your hips.

Then you broke away from some guy who looked like a real tool who was reaching for you across the bar. You backed up and bumped into the mini fridge behind you and winced, and Bradley took a few steps in your direction. He memorized what that guy was wearing and what he looked like, just in case.

But now it was time for you to dance, so at least you were able to step away from him. One of the cowgirls was helping you up onto the bar, and the crowd started cheering. The opening notes to Whole Lotta Love started playing, and Bradley's arms prickled with goosebumps as you ran your hand down to your waist and shook your hips from side to side. You were moving just like you had in your living room, but all he could think about were the times you sang this song to him. He wanted all of it to be just for him. He wanted to touch you the way you were touching yourself. He wanted to taste the sweat that glistened on your neck.

His jealousy flared, burning bright inside of him as he watched everyone crowd the bar as you strutted along with a smile on your face. And once again your smile brightened when you found him, and then you mouthed the lyrics, 'Way down inside, honey you need it. I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you my love.' You mouthed the words to him.

Bradley grunted. His body felt like it was pulled taut like a rubber band, about to snap. You stopped at the end of the bar and did a little twirl as the crowd sang along to the song, but you kept your eyes on him. Your lips perfectly formed every word, and he'd never forget this feeling for the rest of his life.

Then you turned away from him, and he instantly missed the way you were subtly giving him your attention. He moved forward a little bit through the crowd, wanting to get closer to you. When you spun around again, he saw you looking for him, and your smile wavered.

"Sparrow!" he called out, and when you found him again, you laughed. And he laughed, too. But this must have been the breaking point in the evening, because Bradley got hit in the shoulder as a fight broke out to his right. Everyone got shoved forward, and a random glass of beer hit the bar. You tried to jump out of the way as your feet got soaked, and then your boss started yelling at you to keep dancing. Now when you looked at Bradley, you were no longer smiling.

He called your first name this time as you tried to step over the wet part of the bar and continue to the other end. Bradley saw him before you did. That asshole guy was back, and he smiled as he looked up your skirt. Bradley fleetingly remembered you told him you wore shorts under your skirt, and he really hoped you had them on tonight. But that wasn't the end of it, because now he was reaching out for your foot.

"What the fuck?" Bradley shouted, handing his glass to a stranger as he tried to get to you. With that asshole's hand firmly wrapped around your ankle, you started to waver. You were nine feet up in the air, surrounded by glass bottles, and he knew he was closer to you than any of the bouncers.

"Stop it!" you shouted above the music as you tried to pull yourself free, but that guy was unrelenting. You took one more awkward step before your body turned sideways. You were about to fall off the bar. Bradley fought his way forward as you tried to correct yourself, but it was too late, now it looked like you were going to land on your wrist on the bar, and probably break a bone.

Bradley lunged just in time, and thankfully you saw him. You trusted him, and right now he could see that fact in your eyes. You let yourself fall forward into the crowd. Into his open arms.

"Oh my god, Bradley!" you gasped as your arms wound around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to him. You were shaking.

"I've got you," he promised as the song played on. He wanted to throw that guy up against the wall, but he was too content holding you to him as you buried your face against his neck. Letting go of you wasn't really an option. He wrapped one big hand around your thigh while the other squeezed your waist. "I have you, Sparrow."

Jake and Javy were there now, and Bradley nodded to the guy who grabbed you. He'd let them take care of it, because now your lips were brushing his ear. "That was terrifying," you whispered, and someone finally changed the song while another dancer climbed onto the bar.

Bradley made the decision to carry you outside into the cool night, walking slowly down the block where it was quieter as you caught your breath. "Are you okay now?" he asked softly.

You nodded against him, and when he adjusted you in his arms, you quickly whispered, "Please don't put me down yet."

"I won't," he promised before pressing his lips to your collarbone. You whimpered, and he couldn't help it. He said, "I don't ever want to put you down. And for the record, I don't want you to dance here anymore either. I never wanted you to."

You lifted your head away from him, and Bradley practically melted as your fingers tugged through the hair at the back of his head. Your lips were pouty, and your eyes were trusting as you asked, "You never wanted me to?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

He knew he had to say it and risk ruining everything, because pretending like this friendship with you was enough was actually hurting him now. He looked at your pretty face as he said, "Because I'm in love with you. And I'm selfish and jealous, and I don't want a bunch of other guys watching you dance around in this little outfit. Dancing around to my song."

"Bradley." You leaned closer, and you didn't stop until your lips were on his. This was better than he thought it could be, already so comfortable around you. Already addicted to your voice and the way you felt in his arms. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you kissed him, parting his lips with yours until you were tasting him. When you pulled away with a little moan, you whispered his name again while you ran your thumb along his mustache.

"Why did you dance to that song?" he demanded gently.

You pressed another kiss to his mouth before you said, "It made it less scary to get up on the bar when I was listening to a song that reminds me of you."

"Why?" he demanded again.

Then you very easily and simply said, "Because I'm in love with you, too."

"Honey," he sighed against your lips, smiling this time as you slowly unwrapped your legs and slid down the front of his body. Once you were standing on your own, Bradley let his hands fall to your hips, and you wiggled yourself snug against his body.

You felt just like his shower fantasies and all of his other fantasies, if he was being honest with himself. He thought about you all the time. You nibbled on his lips and dragged your fingers through his hair until he was frankly afraid he was going to get hard in his jeans right here on the sidewalk. He pried his lips from yours, making you pout, and he chuckled as he said, "Sparrow, you're killing me."

Your pout grew more pronounced as you said, "I want you to call me Honey again."

His smile must look ridiculous now as he said, "Honey."

"That's better," you said as your lips curled into a grin. "Let's get out of here."

"Do you think you should go back inside first?" he asked, hoping you'd just ditch the whole thing with him, but you nodded in response.

"Yeah, good idea. I'll go quit in person," you said, taking his hand in yours.

He stood his ground in response, and you weren't able to move him, but one tug on your hand and you were headed right back to his arms. "Excellent. As soon as you do that, we can talk about how we aren't friends anymore."

"We're not?" you asked, and as soon as that pout started returning, Bradley leaned down and kissed you.

"Hell no," he whispered against your lips. "You're gonna be my girlfriend. And I'll be your boyfriend. And I'm going to take you back to my house. And this time when I carry you to bed, I'm going to stay there with you all night. If that's cool."

"It's so cool," you promised him, and this time when you tugged on his hand, he followed you back up the sidewalk. "It's almost as cool as a man in his thirties who has a keyboard."

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

You were honestly impressed by the way the other guys weren't phased at all. Maybe it was obvious that you and Bradley belonged together, but none of them found it surprising that you were suddenly a couple. It really wasn't sudden at all in your mind though. There was a slow build of trust and appreciation over time that turned physical as soon as Bradley admitted he was in love with you. And four months later, none of it had let up. In fact, you couldn't get enough, and neither could he.

"That's it?" he asked, pointing to the single box left in your trunk.

"That's it," you told him as you picked it up. And then he picked you up and carried you toward his house while you laughed. You passed the planter boxes full of flowers and went through the pink door.

"Then it's official. You live here now. Welcome home, Honey."

"Oh please," you replied as he set you down. "I've been unofficially living here for months."

"All thanks to DJ Insomnia," he whispered, leaning down and placing an absolutely filthy kiss on your lips.

You moaned. "I owe him so much."

Bradley shrugged and said, "I think we would have eventually arrived at the same conclusion regardless."

"What conclusion would that be?"

"That you're in love with me."

You wanted to deny it, but you couldn't. "Help me unpack the rest of my clothes and shoes so we can explore another one of your shower fantasies."

Bradley moaned and said, "Absolutely. I'll meet you in the bedroom. I just need to get something first."

That's how you ended up putting your clothes on hangers while Bradley resurfaced a few minutes later with his keyboard. Instead of helping you in any way, he sat on the bed and started playing Whole Lotta Love.

"I asked you to help me," you told him with a laugh as you tossed a pair of your shorts at him while he played. "You're worse than DJ Insomnia."

"Just for that, you get a remix too."

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

I'm not exactly sure how "Sneak Peek: Bradley's Version" ended up happening, but I hope you enjoyed it. I might like it even better than the Jake fic! Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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