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I'm getting back into writing! This means I am looking for 2-3 Beta-Readers.

Things I'm looking for in a beta reader:

Must be 18+ (this is a requirement)

Must be able to give constructive feedback

Must get back to me as soon as they can when the story is sent to them.

Must be fine with the content I'm putting out (will give a detailed warning list before the stories). Most, if not all of my stories will have some sort of 18+ content, not necessarily smut.

Please send a message if you're interested!

Amazing fic! This had me hooked almost immediately! Author's writing was great. This is the Namjoon I never knew I needed!

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~ ♡

Kinktober Day 6

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟday 6: bondage *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

♡ pairing: yoongi x f. reader

♡ genre: established relationship, smut [18+]

♡ summary: Yoongi loves seeing you cuffed

♡ wc: 597

♡ warnings: bondage (wrist cuffs), reader is a masochist, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

♡ date: October 20, 2023

Curiosity was what had gotten you into this position. You had always found bondage to be an art form. You had started with bondage you could do on yourself until Yoongi walked in and caught you.

Now, you were both involved, and while you enjoyed shibari the most, at the moment you were cuffed to the headboard. Your wrist cuffs dug into your skin when you tugged on them but the slight pain made you moan with each tug.

Yoongi kissed his way down your body slowly, his tongue working wonders on every inch until he settled between your legs.

“So wet for me,” Yoongi smirks, his fingers gripping your thighs to spread you open further. He’s slow in his movements, teasing your clit first before slipping a finger inside. You tug on your restraints, biting your lower lip before begging for more.

“So needy,” he scoffs, gently kissing your thigh before adding a second finger. The sight of you cuffed to the bed makes his cock throb in the confines of his black boxer briefs. He’s seen you tied in so many different ways but this is one of his favorites.

“Yoongi,” you whine, feeling his tongue circle your clit as his fingers curl inside you, slowly pushing in deeper in time with your moans. 

You tug and tug on the cuffs, your hips rising off the bed in a poor effort to follow Yoongi when he straighteners up. He fucks his fingers into you, his other hand palming his erection and soft moans escape his pretty lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, eyes dark and hooded as he feels you tighten around him. He bites his lip, eyes fluttering shut as you come undone, moaning his name and listening to the little clink of the cuffs on the headboard.

“Yoongi,” you pant, brow beading with sweat and body sensitive but needing more. Always more.

Yoongi smiles, his hand running up and down your thigh. He moves up on the bed, careful as he releases your cuffs and repositions you on your knees with your head to the side and your ass in the air.

Slowly, he caresses the curve of your ass, using his knee to spread your legs further. He licks his lips as he stands briefly to remove his boxers before he’s lining his cock at your entrance.

“Fuck,” you gasp when he pushes in, moaning when he bottoms out. Yoongi closes his eyes, pleasure coursing through his body as he grips the chain between your wrist cuffs and pulls you onto his cock.

“Yoongi!”

Cursing, Yoonig goes fast and hard, mesmerized by the way your ass jiggles with each of his thrusts. He fucks you deeper, gripping the chain so hard it digs into his palms but he doesn’t care, not when you’re moaning his name so sweetly.

“Please,” you’re not even sure what you’re pleading for, face nearly buried in the sheets as the headboard slams into the wall with each of Yoongi’s thrusts. However, Yoongi knows what you need especially when your hands are bound the way they are at the moment.

With one hand he holds onto the chain and with the other he rubs your clit until you’re clenching around him, begging him to let you come. 

He lets you. 

Yoongi loves the way you fall apart for him, crying out for him and cursing, telling him how good it feels until he can’t help but come inside you. Groaning, and cursing, Yoongi cums. He pushes his hair out of his eyes and smiles when you look at him.

One, Two, Me & You | Teaser

; The Last Of Us!Jungkook x Reader

; Genre: Angst, fluff

; Synopsis: Twenty-five years after the outbreak of the cordyceps infection, you're just another survivor trying to live in a post-apocalyptic world. Your saving grace is that at least you're not having to survive on your own.

; A/N: Randomly got the inspiration for this. It's already 2.5k long... I reckon 5-6k? And for those who love my angst works... get ready for the pain train!

-

"Sorry, there's nothing here, though. As in infected or food. Looks like it's been thoroughly looted." Jungkook shrugs, giving you a sad smile.

You'd met Jungkook when you were 24. He'd been another lone survivor, and you'd been suspicious of him from the start. But he'd been desperate for company - the group he'd been with had all been killed - and you'd been unable to say no to those bright eyes.

He'd been only 21 at the time, but as with most things now, he was mature in ways that people from before would never understand. At 21, he'd been born after everything went to shit and as a result, he'd had to kill to survive for his whole life.

You'd been uncertain about having someone with you again, but you'd slowly learnt to welcome his presence. It took 2 years before you both finally gave in to your mutual attraction - he was younger than you, but you'd never been with anyone.

The two of you had been together through thick and thin ever since, and you could safely say that he was the love of your life. Sure, maybe you'd never experienced it with anyone else, but you didn't get chances like that anymore. You had to take life as it came and hold on tight, which is exactly what you did.

Times were hard, food was sparse, nights were cold, and life wasn't too interesting. But Jungkook made it worth it - he held you tight at night, laughed and teased with you, protected you, and had your back. You were a team, and you'd been through hell and back.

Helping Hands || Min Yoongi

Pairing: Caretaker! Yoongi x Kindergarten teacher! Reader

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Strangers to lovers || Non-idol AU

Summary: Yoongi always had a knack for fixing things, and with producing getting him nowhere, he ends up working for the school his long-time friend Seokjin, teaches at. With his new job, he meets you, and although your first encounter hadn’t been the best; at least not in Yoongi’s eyes, he could have never guessed how your relationship would bloom. And Yoongi gets to show you his hands can do more than fix your faulty heating.

Word Count: 13.3k

Tags/ Warnings: fluffy, smut in the forms of: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex (because that’s cool), they hold hands while they fuck, boobie play, squirting, boyfriends taekook, namjoon is a bit of an ick.

Notes: this idea was derived from a tiktok, but the original creator has deleted the video :’( but the idea of someone having a crush on you and helping fix up your classroom was too endearing to pass! when i thought about writing this i didn’t think it would be very long, and i thought how on earth am i meant to write a decent story from this vague-ish concept but here we are 13k words of two people falling in love. considering i’ve never had a s/o i don’t think i did too bad… but maybe this is just what i want from someone i like even if the idea of becoming a teacher makes me want to hurl. if there's mistakes, no there isn't.

edit: the tiktok that inspired this fic! thank you @devilonmyshouder for finding it! my savior 🥲

<3 <3 <3

“Have you asked for her number yet?”

“What?” Yoongi releases a long sigh, head turning so his eyes can meet Seokjin’s, who had a sly smile pasted on his annoyingly handsome face. And it’s at times like these where Yoongi wonders why he still puts up with Jin’s bullshit.

“The kindergarten teacher you’ve been staring at since we sat down” Jin points out, watching you as you laugh with a few of your co-workers on the other side of the cafeteria; in perfect eyeshot from where Yoongi sits.

“No? Why would I do that?” said man asks, stabbing a piece of meat with more force than it deserved. Yoongi has to will himself to not let his eyes wander back in your direction; like hell would he give Seokjin what he wanted. Yoongi doubted he had enough patience stored up to deal with the impending teasing that his long-time friend would surely thrust upon him if he were to prove his point correct. Plus, he was nothing more than being a little intrigued by you.

“Because you clearly like her” Jin tuts.

“Do not”

“Do too. You can’t deny your little crush. I’ve seen the way you look at her” Jin exasperates, flinging his arms above his head dramatically, catching the attention of a few other teaching staff scattered across the growingly scarce cafeteria.

Yoongi cringes, eyes squinting in distaste at his friend’s flamboyant antics that seemed to always garner the eyes of everyone around him. But Yoongi supposes with Jin’s face, it shouldn’t come as a surprise the attention always seemed to be on him, even if he was acting somewhat civilised. Yoongi had never thought of Jin as more than a friend, even if he did swing both ways; but, he could see why Jin’s face had such an appeal, even Aphrodite would have a run for her money if Jin were to rock up in those times, stealing the attention all for himself with his aggravatingly perfect face.

“It’s not a crush. This isn’t high school Hyung” Yoongi grunts, shoving his lunchbox back into his bag. Uncaring as he squashes a banana, already a little too overripe for his liking anyways.

You’d have to pay him millions before he dared touch the cafeteria food, in no way, shape or form would he risk growing a third arm from the slop they served. It’s offensive they had the gall to call it food, let alone serve it to the poor children. And he swears he saw one of the chefs spit in the pasta once, he doesn’t care if it adds flavour.

Now, Yoongi didn’t like children. Not in the slightest.

Thought they were disgusting, foul little creatures that had no sense of personal hygiene or self-awareness. With their sticky hands and voices that carried across miles, everything about children made Yoongi recoil.

And that may leave you wondering why on earth is Yoongi working in a school?

Money. That’s the simple answer.

Yoongi had a knack for fixing things, he’s good with his hands (interpret that how you will). And he really needed the money. His little ‘side hustle’ of producing only made him so much money, and as inflation increased, so did Yoongi’s bills, and slowly he had started finding it a little harder to pay bills and food for not only him but Holly; his cute little dog that he refused to believe wasn’t a puppy any longer. Jin had argued that Yoongi spoiled his dog, buying premium food and overpriced treats, but Holly only deserved the best.

Therefore, the job had to change and not his dog’s nutrition.

So, when the same Seokjin who complained about his pampered pup, had told him about the open position in the school he worked at, Yoongi was sceptical to say the least. He’d dropped out of college after a semester, taking on shoddy part-time jobs to pay for his producing equipment and clearly that had only brought him so far. So he couldn’t see any good reason to waltz back into a school.

Not only that, the thought of having to share space with tiny terrors for hours a day, 5 out of 7 days a week, the offer didn’t seem all that worth it. Until he saw the salary.

Not only was he now making 10 times more than he had been, basically teachers wages (still not enough but better than nothing), he got his own little office in the far end of campus, so he wouldn’t have to interact with any sticky babies and loud-mouthed teens unless absolutely necessary.

With his shiny new office, secluded from the crowd of teachers that gathered at lunch, Yoongi had zero intentions of sitting in the crusty cafeteria; even if his Jin Hyung had begged him for the first two weeks of his new job, to come and sit with him and his other teacher friends. He’d never enjoyed everyone gathering in one place to eat, crowds of people sounding more like squawking birds than hushed chatter that always ended up in arguments.

That was until Yoongi had met you. And suddenly the cafeteria seemed like the only place he wanted to be.

Pretty you who looked like a goddess among humans. Even with the splodges of paint staining your dress, and snotty babies clinging to you like nothing Yoongi had ever seen.

Yoongi had only been working at the school for a month, the start of the school year rolling by quicker than he had initially anticipated. And before he knew it, two weeks had passed by; and that second week on the jobs was when he had first ‘met’ you.

‘Met’ was generous. It was more a brief encounter where Yoongi couldn’t get the words off his tongue quick enough and had been left dumbstruck. Worried he had scared you off with how rude he must have been. You’d strutted out of your classroom, a model among the little children waddling behind you like little ducklings would their mother, hot on your tail as you led them to the bathrooms.

Yoongi had been fixing one of the fan units in the hallway, and you’d politely smiled up at him, making sure none of the children would knock the ladder Yoongi had been stood on, worried their little bodies would bulldoze into the wonky frame and Yoongi would be sent flying. And although that would make a memorable first impression, Yoongi didn’t want to be rushed to hospital with a concussion and his pride bruised.

‘Good morning’

Two simple words and Yoongi felt as if his heart would implode; he felt silly, coughing, and then only managing a curt nod as a reply, words sticky on his tongue like taffy. Clogging his throat as he holds his breath momentarily.

You see, Yoongi was prone to worrying, anxiety always laying under his skin like an itch that he could never get rid of, irritating but part of his life whether he liked it or not. And that night he’d laid awake, worried he hadn’t made a good first impression, scaring you away when he hadn’t even gotten the chance to learn your name.

And sure, he could have asked Jin, but that man had enough blackmail material already; he didn’t need to know about Yoongi’s budding interest in the pretty kindergarten teacher. If he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough then Seokjin surely would.

To Yoongi’s surprise you hadn’t seemed too offended by his reply, or lack thereof, as a week later you’d greeted him during lunch; even going as far to hold the door open for him as he languidly wandered into the cafeteria, in search of Seokjin.

This time Yoongi felt a little more prepared, muttering a short ‘thanks’, small smile stretching onto his lips as he points it in your direction. He doesn’t wait for your reply, legs already pulling him out of what could be another embarrassing encounter, a little disheartened that the day he finally decided to eat with the rest of the staff (secretly hoping to see you), your encounter had been so brief.

Yoongi’s easy smile however, remained throughout the course of lunch, heart fluttering like little butterfly wings locked in the cage of his chest; and if Seokjin noticed his friend’s flushed cheeks he chose not to say anything.

The caretaker thought he was sly with his little crush, never mentioning you to Jin, only stealing short glimpses of you from across the cafeteria, that short half an hour a day enough to recharge his motivation to continue this job. And he has the gall to be surprised when Seokjin finally decides to bring it up.

“Might want to hurry up, Jungkookie might beat you to it” Jin calls out, and if Yoongi hadn’t seen a few kids running around the area, he would have flipped off the elder. But Yoongi does nothing more than wave him off, and he may have been worried if he didn’t know Jungkook was already seeing someone.

That someone being Kim Taehyung, the high school art teacher, who occasionally sat at their table at lunch. Most of his time hauled up in the art rooms where students were welcome to work during the lunch hour.

Yoongi wasn’t one to stereotype but Kim Taehyung was the very definition of eccentric art teacher. Style a little unusual, paintings so abstract Yoongi felt like he was on acid while trying to decipher the meaning.

He had seen how Jungkook looked at Taehyung, the little galaxies that shone in his eyes when he looked at his love, where each star represented one thing that Jungkook adored about his boyfriend, his gentle gaze enough to show the absolute adoration they held for one another.

Yoongi had complained, telling them to get a room on more than one occasion when they’d decided to lick into each other’s mouths during afterschool dinners. But truly he was happy they had something so precious, a love like a warm hug, infinite trust between the two of them; something that Yoongi secretly yearned for.

More often than not Yoongi felt a little misunderstood. He never meant to come off as cold or disinterested, he liked the silent company of a person as much as he enjoyed his time alone, you didn’t have to always be talking; silent comfort of another person enough for him.

Yoongi didn’t want to come off as rude, he just didn’t know what to say sometimes, happier to prove his love with acts of service than empty words that even he doesn’t know the meaning of. He doesn’t want to come off as unapproachable, but when you’re tired from work and lacking the energy to act like a ray of sunshine, much like the physical education teacher, Hoseok, Yoongi could only wallow in his own self-pity some nights. Wondering why only a select few seemed to enjoy his company, or why so many romantic relationships have been washed down the drain.

As the first semester of school progressed, the weather had started to get colder, autumn slinking by before anyone could comprehend the unusually warm summer.

Kids starting to layer uniform, and teachers turning to the heaters to defrost their fingers as they arrive early, grass still dewy with air that nips at your skin like little needles.

Yoongi jolts up from his seat at the gentle knock of his office door, his feet flying off the desk from where he’d been resting them; worried that it was his boss coming for his usual weekly check-up.

However, Yoongi was pleasantly surprised to find you stood in his doorway; soft-looking sweater cocooning you in its warmth, nose tinted red from the frosty morning air, tips of your fingers barely peeking out from where you try to warm them up from the confines of your sleeves. And it takes all Yoongi’s will, not to tell you he had more ways than one he would love to heat you up (though he supposes he should take you out on a date before that).

Yoongi thinks you must have been sent from the sky, pretty, even in the dim morning sunlight, kissing your skin like Yoongi would if you would let him.

“Good morning” you smile, nose twitching at the strong scent of coffee that permeates the air of Yoongi’s office.

“Morning. Can I help you?” Yoongi asks, leg bouncing up and down anxiously. He has no time to curse himself for how blunt he must have come off, tone anything but inviting, before you’re opening your mouth to answer him.

“Yes actually. The heater in my classroom isn’t working”

Yoongi nods, pushing himself from his seat, ignoring the piping hot coffee he was moments away from drinking as he picks up his little toolbox that sat beside his desk.

“Lead the way” he motions out of the room, not daring to make eye-contact with you; worried he were to drown in the depths of your eyes, calling him in like a siren would with song.

He watches your back as you walk him to your classroom, fingers itching to hold your hands, help you warm them up as the stupid heater in your classroom couldn’t do its job properly.

Yoongi didn’t exactly know what he expected your classroom to look like, never working up the courage to peek inside and take a look into such a large part of your life.

The flurry of colours was expected, paintings from what he assumes to be your classes over the years hung on the wall, with paints and pens stacked on short shelving by each wall of the room.

Your desk sits at the front of the room, little trinkets lining the edges, papers covering the surface like a blanket. And Yoongi has to stop the smile from pulling at his face from how disordered you are; just like him. And he can somewhat appreciate the beauty in the mess of your classroom, it showed it was loved, enjoyed by more than just the small group of children that spent nearly every hour in here every day, loved by you who clearly spent time lining the walls with letters and drawings all addressed to you, carefully printed and cut letters of the alphabet climbing the walls like vines and fairy lights hung like tree snakes lounging on a branch.

“This one over here” you point to the heaters under the window, and Yoongi cringes at the cool air that caresses his cheeks as he stalks the length of your classroom. Nipping his cheeks like little jaws trying to pull apart his skin.

As he kneels down, pulling his glasses from the front pocket of his hoodie, he takes a closer look at the pipes connected to the main framing of the heater. Yoongi tries not to pay attention to you as you shuffle through the mountain of papers on your desk, he tries not to focus on the way you bite your lip; the little devil that rest on his shoulder whispering for him to just kiss you.

Yoongi distracts himself with your heater, fingers a little shakier than usual as you wander around the room, picking up pots of paints off the shelves, brushes stored in separate drawers and laying them all on the little tables, perfect for the little toddlers you taught. Chairs so small they must have been the first bear’s that goldilocks had thought were too uncomfortable to sit on, they sure looked it; no amount of colour enough to mask the hard plastic they were made of.

Yoongi frowns when he finds the problem with your heater, somehow a bolt had gotten loose; he can only assume one of the children had fiddled with it. Little fingers always having to play with something, another thing he hated about kids. If it’s not meant to be touched, then don’t touch it.

He pulls a spanner out of his toolbox, fingers skimming over a screwdriver. He looks over at shelving unit by the heater, screws glimmering in the slowly growing sunlight that climbs its way over the top of the neighbouring school building.

And that same little devil on his shoulder whispers something a little naughty, something Yoongi knows he shouldn’t do. And maybe Yoongi was a little bit of a hypocrite, after just saying kids shouldn’t touch everything, but the screws looked so shiny, so inviting, a little accident that means he may get an extra half hour with you.

He peers over at you, sat at your desk, typing something on your laptop. And decides that what’s the worst that could happen? He quickly tightens the loose bolt to your faulty heater, turning the knob on the side just in case before he scoots his way over to the shelf that had been holding the paints you now had on the table.

He licks his lips, sucking in a sharp breath before he unscrews a few nails. Silently praying the shelf can hold up until he leaves the room.

You stay none the wiser, typing away on some blank document from what Yoongi can make out. He tucks his glasses back into the front pocket of his hoodie, dusting off the imaginary dust that clung to the knees of his jeans before he’s clearing his throat to catch your attention. You startle, eyes wide when they meet Yoongi’s, who thinks you look a little like a puppy caught doing something they were told not to.

He stifles his laugh, coving it with a cough, “Your heater should be working, I turned it up a little so the room should heat up quicker” he explains, motioning towards the offending object. Your shelves staring at him, and Yoongi worries you can see the guilt swimming in his eyes.

You nod, pushing yourself from your seat, you bow a little in thanks, “You’re the best” you grin, and Yoongi can feel his heartrate pick up; cheeks dusted in rosy red.

You were so pretty.

+ + +

Yoongi waits all day, ears perking up when footsteps echo down his end of the hall throughout the rest of work. Begrudgingly helping a few other teachers that seemed to have had heating problems in their classrooms too; a common theme it seems.

Or, the occasional pitter patter of kids running down the hallway like a heard of wild animals during breaktimes, or teens sneaking off to the bathrooms where they liked to make out, or a few other things if their dishevelled uniform meant anything as Yoongi wandered around for his afternoon walk.

He tries to spot you at lunch, his mood only souring when you never walk into the cafeteria, your melodic laughter not gracing the usual grating sound of stressed teaching staff, that all seemed to have a passion for complaining about their jobs.

Jin had tried to cheer him up, offering to share his homemade lunch just to get even a hint of a smile out of Yoongi, and usually the caretaker would love to bless his tastebuds with actual decent food; but it seemed nothing, but your pretty smile would suffice to sate his grumpy mood.

The minutes before the home-time bell slowly creep up on Yoongi, and on most days he would be ecstatic that he could finally escape this hellhole. He never understood why teachers would willingly return to the place that is designed to fuck over students; especially when the pay isn’t all that great. And most of them seemed to despise their jobs anyways.

Even after the bell rings, startling Yoongi from his own little reverie, he remains sat at his desk; a little quiver of hope still left inside of him that you would be stood in the doorway of his office once more.

He thinks it must be a daydream when you show up, unable to properly comprehend that you were once again stood before him. That would be the second time in one day.

He isn’t at all surprised when you give him a sheepish smile, “Do you have any spare screws? It seems my shelving has broken”

And a small flame of guilt licks at Yoongi’s heart and mind, but the pretty smile that stretches onto your lips when Yoongi only lets out a little laugh, picking up his little toolbox, is enough to expel any of his worries.

He once again gets to stare at your back as you walk back towards your classroom, pretty sweater still veiling your body; and Yoongi licks his lips at what you could be hiding underneath the layers you wear.

A blink of an image flashing behind his eyes of you sprawled across the sheets of his bed, his head tucked in-between your thighs. He knew he’d get addicted to your taste, surely with such a sweet voice, all of you must be just the same. Your arousal thick like nectar on his tongue as he pushes you over the edge to your own pleasure.

“Mr. Min?” you wave a hand in-front of his face.

Yoongi blinks, “Sorry?” he coughs, heat creeping up his neck, pinching the tips of his ears.

You point towards the mess of your bookshelf, paint pots and art supplies scattered across the floor from where the shelf had caved in on itself. A mound of mess that you would now have to tackle once Yoongi acts as your saviour; a dark knight that had secretly put you in this messy situation.

“I was putting the paint pots away when it sorta of just… collapsed”

Yoongi lets out a grunt of understanding, that same guilt from earlier tickling up his spine as he looks over the huge mess you’ll have to clear up once he fixes your shelving. He shouldn’t have taken those few screws that morning and should have just worked up the courage to ask you out instead of making your day harder. But he supposes what is done is done and now he must fix his selfish doings.

You remain sat at your desk, finger scrolling through your phone as Yoongi rummages through his little box of screws.

His fingers dip into the pocket of his jeans, shiny steel nails pricking the tips of his fingers.

“Do you need any help?” You startle the caretaker, worried smile on your face as Yoongi picks up a few of the fallen shelves.

“No, it’s alright” he waves you off.

“Would you like something to drink then?” you ask.

“Black coffee is fine, thanks” he shoots you a quick smile, gums on show.

Yoongi doesn’t notice the bristly heat that burns the soft skin of your cheeks as you wander towards a cabinet in the back of your classroom. Rummaging for the granulated coffee that a few of your co-workers stored by your kettle. Not your first beverage of choice but a few of your friends took advantage of your little drink station.

As the kettle boils your water, Yoongi can see you intently watching him from the corner of his eye; and he feels his palms get clammy from your attention set so closely on him. He would have compared your eyes to those of a hawk if you hadn’t been so utterly soft; tempting Yoongi to wrap you up in his pocket and dote on you.

“How did you get so good at this?” you wonder aloud, awe evident on your face as Yoongi easily slides a shelf back into place.

Yoongi pauses, “Honestly I’m not sure. Guess I’m just good with my hands”

Your tongue peeks out to wet your lips at that; body jumping when the little click of the kettle finishing boiling. You whip back around to finish Yoongi’s drink, said man finding it hard to stop a little smirk from tugging at his lips at your flushed cheeks, pretty even painted in red.  

You place a rounded pink mug on the windowsill by where Yoongi is working, and he mutters a quick thanks before he’s focusing back on holding the panel of wood back into the right place, silver nail balanced between his lips.

“I never got your name” Yoongi says when you take a seat at one of the student’s tables, warm mug of hot chocolate heating your cold hands up.

“Y/n” you tell him, “And you are?” you ask, only knowing of him by his surname.

“Yoongi” he tells you, pushing himself up with the help of your now sturdy shelf.

You push yourself up from the desk, placing your cup of drink down before you start picking up the scattered art supplies. Yoongi follows, tucking his screwdriver into the back pocket of his jeans as he picks up the paint pots that brought him back into your room. The vibrant colours glaring at him; a reminder of his sins.

“You don’t have to, Yoongi” you tell him, but said handyman ignores you; brain replaying how nice his name sounded when it came from your lips, dipped in sweet honey, addictive in the way that makes Yoongi want to beg you to say it one more time. Something about your voice enchanting, pulling him closer like a snake charmer does a snake with its pipe.

Instead, he brushes you off, “I’ve stayed this late, what more is a few minutes?”

Your nose scrunches at that, “Sorry about that”

+ + +

“Have you asked for her number yet?” Seokjin asks.

“What?” Yoongi feels a sense of déjà vu as he sits in the corner of the cafeteria, you sat at another table with a few other teachers. Though today you seem more focused on your lunch than any of the baseless chatter the others on your table seem to be immersed in.

“You stayed after school with her, had dinner together after that and you still haven’t asked for her number?” Jin gawks.

“No?”

“Min Yoongi” Jungkook shakes his head, “Ask the poor woman on a date or something”

“What if she was just being polite?” he asks the youngest, chewing at the skin of his bottom lip.

“She must be interested; she went out for dinner with you after you’d fucked up her shelves”

Yoongi’s head snaps in your direction, worried you'd somehow heard Jungkook, “She doesn’t know that, keep it down”

Jungkook snickers, “Seriously, ask her out. Otherwise, someone else might” he nods in the direction of your table, a stupidly handsome male laying his hands on your shoulders. Green jealousy bubbling inside of Yoongi as he just watches.

You turn to look up at him with a smile, grateful as he places a bag on the table in-front of you.

Yoongi narrows his eyes, “Who the fuck is he?” he tuts.

“Kim Namjoon, works in the high school”

“Cute dimples” Taehyung pulls out a spare chair beside Jungkook, leaning over to lay a wet kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

Yoongi grunts dramatically pushing himself from his seat. His hands slam onto the table, “You guys are going out tonight, right?” he turns towards Jin who only nods, confusion evident on his face.

Yoongi storms over towards the table you’re sat at, and as he draws closer, he can only wonder where this burst of confidence came from; ignition slowly burning to nothing but warm embers as he pushes one foot in-front of the other. But when he makes eye contact with slimy looking Namjoon, a cursed smile being shone his way Yoongi’s anxiety seems to be the least of his worries.

“Y/n” he calls you, endeared by your wide eyes that flit to meet his own, happiness enveloping your eyes as you look up at him.

“Yes?” you stand when Yoongi makes it to your side, still having to stare up at him from beneath the veil of your eyelashes, ones that Yoongi finds very pretty.

“We’re going out for dinner tonight” he throws a thumb over his shoulder towards his table of friends, Taehyung waves, boxy smile an attempt to placate your worries, “And I was wondering if you wanted to… wanted to come with us?”

Yoongi knows you must be able to see the unease that swims in his eyes, and he worries that maybe he looks a little desperate, stalking towards your table unannounced; but with your small group of co-workers all staring at him like he’d grown a second head, he’s seconds away from scuttling out the cafeteria.

“That would be lovely, Yoongi” you smile.

“I’ll meet you at the gate after school?” he asks, eyes brightening in hope. You nod and Yoongi has to bite his lip to stop the huge smile that threatens to pull at his cheeks.

+ + +

“I swear he isn’t always like this” Yoongi shakes his head, turning his attention to look at you.

“I think it’s amusing” you turn towards your new friend, wincing when Seokjin, who had previously been dancing on a chair, falls onto a table. Both your eyes snap towards the eldest of the group, trying to gauge if he was okay or needed immediate medical attention.

Yoongi supposes the alcohol coursing through Seokjin’s veins was enough to help him stagger to his feet like he hadn’t just body slammed into a table, and Jungkook has to wave off a worried bar tender who had already pulled his phone from his pocket, moments away from calling for an ambulance.

Taehyung scans Jin’s body, trying to figure out if he had a concussion or not. And Jungkook tries to ask his hyung if he remembers who he is.

“This isn’t what I imagined dinner to be” you turn back to Yoongi who elegantly brings his glass of whisky to his lips, somehow looking like royalty in such a grimy bar, tucked away in an alleyway.

He hums, letting his taste buds soak in the refined flavour of the liquor before he answers you, “Me neither. Usually, we go to that shitty Italian place down the street”

“I like it there!” you exasperate, “Their dessert is really good”

“I don’t like dessert”

“What?” you breathe, “You devil, how could you not like dessert?”

Yoongi snorts, a little unattractive on his part but he couldn’t help himself, “Why stuff yourself more when you’ve just had a meal?” (Maybe you liked to be stuffed, but you thought it was a bit too soon for that conversation)

“Because you always have a second stomach for dessert” you tell him instead, “Honestly I got that vibe from you”

“What vibe?”

“Dessert hating vibes, I knew the moment you told me you liked black coffee, with no milk, no sugar that you were a dessert hater” you explain, dramatic shake to your head.

“I’m not a dessert hater, doll. I just have priorities”

“Really bad ones. I refuse to accept any dessert slander”

Yoongi opens his mouth, eyes widening a little in shock when you place a finger over his lips, “Uh uh” you shake your head.

Yoongi laughs at that, tongue poking out from between his lips to lick your finger. You recoil, nose scrunching at Yoongi who only laughs. (He had always preferred his own fingers in other people’s mouths, never really enjoying them in his own).

“Okay, lovers, we’re going home” Jungkook pushes between yours and Yoongi’s seats, “Jin’s about to pass out and I’m moments away from leaving him on the streets”

Both you and Yoongi turn to look over at Taehyung who holds up a very wobbly Seokjin, and you nod in understanding. But Yoongi feels his heart sink at the thought of having to go home already, he had started to enjoy your company, slowly peeling back each layer of your very being.

“I’ll walk you home” Yoongi places a hand on your shoulder when the five of you make it out of the bar. You nod, giving Jungkook a quick hug before he helps Taehyung lug their friend home.

You and Yoongi walk in silence, nothing uncomfortable; just the two of you basking in the company of one another.

Yoongi startles a little when you take a sudden hold of his wrist, “Yoongi, let’s go there” you pull him towards the familiar, drab Italian restaurant that he’s spent way too many weekends drinking in.

The lights at the front blink, bare wires hanging on for dear life to keep the neon lights hung about the windows of the restaurant. The fluorescent light momentarily blind the both of you as you wander inside.

Yoongi makes no fuss as you pull him into a booth by the window, encouraging you even, by handing you a menu. You flip it open, “My treat” you say, ignoring Yoongi as he opens his mouth to argue.

“You can treat me, next time”

Next time.

You wanted to see Yoongi again. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through him, making him that little more delusional that you could feel the same about him as he does you.

“Fine” he drawls, motioning for a waiter to come to the table when you drop the menu with a little smile.

<3

“Did you really have to order only dessert?”

“I got you black coffee as well” you argue, “if you don’t like them, then I’ll eat it”

Yoongi tuts, watching as the waiter brings over your tray of treats. More sugar than the mad hatter had at his tea party balanced on one rusting metal tray.

You wiggle happily in your seat, and Yoongi turns his head to look out the window, coving the blush that coats the skin of his cheeks in dusty red; and Yoongi wonders if this is what falling in love feels like, a new addiction worming its way into his heart. And Yoongi worries he won’t be able to stop himself, fingers itching to feel this again even if it’s only one more time.

“I got you tiramisu, because it tastes like coffee” you push the small plate towards him, eyes wide with wonder as Yoongi take a fork from one of the napkins, everything he does fascinating you as he holds himself with the grace and dignity a lot of people aspire for.

He awkwardly takes a forkful of cake, worried you were scrutinizing him for not eating this right. What if he hated it? And you got offended? What if you were turned off because he didn’t like the same foods as you? Is it a red flag to not like sweet things? God, Yoongi would shovel this cake into his mouth if it meant you’d give him a smile.  

Yoongi thinks you must be able to read his mind, “You don’t have to like it” you remind him, picking up your own fork as you pull a plate towards your body, excitement of a child in your eyes.  

+ + +

“What are you doing for Christmas?” you ask, turning towards Yoongi who dips his paintbrush into the can.

“Probably spend it with my dog” he shrugs, rubbing his gloved hands across his sweats, hoping to warm them up a little.

“You have a dog?” you gape, “Why didn’t you tell me?” you sulk.

Yoongi had told you he’d noticed the paint on your heaters chipping, a potential fire hazard (or so he claims), and that he would repaint them for you with heat safe paint. You’d nodded, offering to help him during the weekend, He’d shrugged, telling you it was your choice, that the room would be cold as you couldn’t paint on scorching hot metal, but you’d only giggled, telling him to pass his phone so you could add his number, and that you’d see him tomorrow. And Yoongi had felt dizzy when you’d brushed him off, determined to meet him that weekend and help.

Now he finds himself with you, both bundled up in coats, and woolly gloves to keep the both of you warm as you paint the morning away. The morning birds haven finished their songs for the day, probably ready to eat as lunch neared, afternoon sun squeezing minimal heat into the classroom through the windows.

“Do you have any plans?” he asks, foot tapping anxiously on the floor.

You shake your head, “I usually visit my parents, but they said they’re sick of white Christmases. So, my dad whisked them off to some tropical island until the end of February when it gets a little warmer”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s not that, I just have a job, and I wouldn’t be able to stay all that long with work chasing me during the holidays”

Yoongi hums, “Want to spend it together?”

Your eyes widen, turning towards Yoongi who continues to paint, acting as if he hadn’t just offered to spend Christmas with you.

“Huh?” you breathe, “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude”

“On what? Me and my dog? Jin Hyung usually stops by, but I think he secretly has a girlfriend because for the last two years he drops off some cookies and then rushes out the door, without his obligatory kisses”

“What about Jungkook and Taehyung?”

“They spend the holidays together, probably fucking. They can’t keep their hands to themselves” you giggle at that.

“They’re cute” you tell him, happy smile pulling onto your face as you recall the ‘dinner’ you’d had together a few weeks ago. And how much Jungkook and Taehyung seemed to be drawn to one another; you think they must the definition of love. Just pure, unadulterated love between the two of them. Two little lovebirds who are mates for the rest of their lives, always drawn to one another.

Jin had showed up to your classroom with a box of chocolates to apologize on the following Monday, babbling how unprofessional the whole encounter was. You’d waved him off, inviting him for coffee or tea during break times if he ever needed a breather from the swarm of students that always seem to gather outside his office door. All hoping to spend a little more time with the good-looking language teacher, innocent crushes pushing them to work hard in class.

He’d thanked you. Apologizing once more before he’d scuttled away with a sheepish smile plastered on his face. Late for a meeting he had with the head of department, and he had already missed the meeting the month prior.

“They’re cute when they’re not sucking each other’s tongues” Yoongi grunts, nudging the sleeve of your jacket so it wouldn’t fall into the pan of paint, worried it wouldn’t wash out from your sleeves.

“Let them be in love” you whine, wiggling a little in place, “Could you imagine loving someone like they do?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Never been in love”

“Really?”

“I mean I dated in high school but nothing close to love” Yoongi turns towards you, “What about you?”

Your cheeks flush, “I’ve never uhh—I’ve never dated. Like at all”

Yoongi blinks, “Not even that smarmy dick?”

“Who?”

“Kim Namjoon or whatever his name is?”

Your tongue wets your lips, and then your eyes widen, “God no” you let out a long breath, “He asked me out last year and I said no. Why on earth would a high school literature teacher ask me out?”

“Because you’re pretty?” Yoongi replies, avoiding eye contact by mixing the paint a little.

“That’s shallow of him” you scoff, “He’s a narcissist anyways, I would never be as good looking as he believes himself to be” you tell Yoongi, and the caretaker wants to bash his head against the table behind him with how oblivious you are.

“That’s shitty” Yoongi agrees, though he feels his heart constrict. Didn’t you know how perfect you are?

“You know he told me I should have studied for a more sophisticated profession, and asked why I wanted to work with kids below the age of 15” you frown, “I thought that was a little mean, so I told him to go fuck himself”

Yoongi laughs at that, “I always see him near your table at lunch”

You hum, nodding—“He’s been trying to win me over with cakes and cookies, I only smile so I get free stuff out of him”

“So, you’re leading him on?”

You drop your brush into the paint pan, “Is that what I’m doing? That’s really shitty” you look at Yoongi with guilty eyes. 

“I guess if he’s a bad man then it’s a little more forgivable” he gently places his paintbrush beside your own, “But he doesn’t deserve you if he’s an asshole”

You nod at that, small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

+ + +

“Please Yoongi” you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, trying to veer him towards the ice rink.

He only grunts, “I don’t skate”

“But it’s Christmas” your shoulders fall, and Yoongi feels as though he just kicked a puppy with your sad pout.

“Fine” he takes your hand, pulling you towards the old woman at the rental booth.

<3

Yoongi can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat, having just watched you fall onto your bottom only minutes after getting onto the rink.

“Hey!” you point an accusing finger at him, “It’s not funny”

“Just a little, darling” he tries hard to stifle his laugh, but fails miserably when you try to push yourself to stand; stood more like a new-born doe who hadn’t grasp the concept of walking yet.

Yoongi misses the devious smile on your face when he bends down to help you stand, your cheeks warming at the pretty smile the caretaker had, warm like a spring afternoon.

“When you offered for us to go skating, I thought you’d be good at it”

You cross your arms over your chest, instantly regretting the sudden action as you wobble. You let out something akin to a squeak when Yoongi takes a hold of your arms, helping stabilise you as your stomach tenses.

“My little deer” he laughs, hands skimming down the length of your arms to hold your hands.

You feel heat creep up your neck, burning the tips of your ears; feeling some relief knowing that your nose and ears were already red from the cold, so you only bite your lip, trying not to let your shuddering breath become known to Yoongi.

He, however, sees your eyes glaze over, something he hadn’t seen from you yet. And it only feeds into his little fantasy of you sprawled out across the sheets of his bed, his name clinging to your tongue, dripping like sweet honey as you beg for more. More of what? He has yet to decide. He’s imagined eating you out, sure that you’d recoil, shy, when he tries to go down on you. He wonders what you’d look like, bouncing prettily on his cock, begging for him to help you, legs shaking as he pounds into you, if your moans would be as soft as your voice, if you’d try to cover your mouth with your hands.

Yoongi coughs, bringing his attention back to you who wobbles, another attempt to skate towards him on your own. This time, Yoongi is ready when you stagger forwards, holding onto your waist as you tumble into his chest.

“Sorry” you whisper, “I don’t think I’m very good at this”

Yoongi laughs, “Nothing a little practice can’t fix”

+ + +

“Merry Christmas Yoongi” you beam, handing him the neatly wrapped gift, little cats printed on the paper.

“Merry Christmas” he takes you hand, pulling you into his warm apartment, heat enveloping you, cleansing you from the toe biting cold of the outside world.

You startle at the wet nose that prods your bare fingers, gaze flitting towards the floor where the fluffy little dog sniffs at your clothes, a cute puff of brown.

“That’s Holly” he tells you, placing your gift underneath the small tree into the corner of the living room beside the one he had bought you.

You crouch down, scratching Holly under the chin, giggling as the excited dog circles your legs.

You wander into the living room, not so subtly peeking at Yoongi’s home. You liked it; it was cosy, and ever so Yoongi. You take a seat on one of the couches, Yoongi following suit once he’d turned the tree lights on, green like vibrant dragonflies dancing from branch to branch.

“I hope you’re okay with takeaway, I looked up how to cook Christmas dinner online, and it’s a little too advanced for me”

You smile, “Don’t tell my mother, but I’ve never been a fan of Christmas dinner”

“Perfect”

<3

“You make music?” you gawk, “That’s so cool”

“It’s a nice side hobby I suppose” he shrugs, not delving into how deep his love for music really is; he knew that if he started, he wouldn’t know when to stop. A little too passionate about his producing than he would like to let on, the last thing he needed was for you to leave when he was enjoying your company.

“You’ll have to show me one day” you tell him, nudging his shoulder as you sit beside one another. Knees pressed snug, body heat warming one another up.

Yoongi picks up another slice of beef, placing it on your plate, “maybe” he shrugs.

“You’re very secretive” you point out.

“Private”

You hum at that, “That is a good trait. More for me to uncover”

“Yeah?” he asks, smile tugging at his lips, “What are you trying to uncover”

Yoongi doesn’t miss the as your eyes flit down his body, straying a little at the waist band of his sweats before travelling back to his lips.

“Everything” you tell him honestly, and he can see the naked emotions that swim behind your eyes; raw need.

“I suppose you should get started then” he whispers, eyes flicking between both of your own.

“Right now?”

Yoongi nods, turning his body to face you; his hand coming to cup your cheek. You close your eyes, low moan reverberating up your throat as Yoongi presses his lips gently against your own. And as cliché as it sounds, Yoongi thinks he hears fireworks somewhere in the distance, lips tingling with want as he feels the warmth of you pressed along the length of his body.

Yoongi drinks in every little sound you make, spurring him to deepen kiss, his tongue flicking to part your own. As you both pull away, Yoongi leans in for a quick peck to your lips before he falls back into his seat.

“I guess I also have a lot to uncover, huh?” he whispers, fingers tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I really like you Y/n” he admits, hands clammy as he gauges your reaction.

“I really like you too” you tell him, and Yoongi smiles at the red hue that coats your cheeks; he can only imagine his match your own.

+ + +

“We should totally go on a double date” Taehyung grins, arm wrapped around Jungkook’s shoulder.

“We’re not dating though” Yoongi grunts, leaning back in his seat. His gaze flits over towards your table of co-workers, you more focused on something on your phone than what they were gossiping about.

“You went on a date, spent Christmas and New Year together, kissed, confessed and you’re not dating?” Jin gawks, astonished by what he was hearing.

Yoongi had asked after your little Christmas escapade, if you wanted to spend New Year together as well. He took you out for lunch, and then the two of you milled around a little market on the outskirts of the city. He’d met a few of your students, their happy smiles when they spotted you, warming Yoongi’s heart. And God forbid he didn’t hate children as much as he used to. (They could be cute sometimes, but only when it comes to you.) As well as conversing with a few parents, more than a few commenting on how cute you and Yoongi were together.

Nothing much more than kissing had happened, and you’d found the excuse for a few more kisses when you’d spotted little brushes of mistletoe hanging from the market huts, left over from the Christmas market that plagued the streets only weeks prior. And who was Yoongi to deny tradition?

The two of you had sat on a hill on New Year’s Day, Yoongi with his coffee, and you with piping hot, hot chocolate, both a little hung over from your little festivities the night prior (with a kiss when the clock hands struck midnight), and the both of you talked about the future. Your individual futures, and the future you want to have together.

You’d both agreed to take it slow, neither of you needed to rush into this relationship. You both knew you liked each other, that much had been established, and there was a mutual understanding that you had all the time in the world to learn more about each other before defining your relationship. You both understood what you had was exclusive, but neither of you felt labels were necessary. The unnecessary shadow that would loom over your shoulders, creeping up on you until your relationship evidently crumbles under the pressure of societal labels and standards of what a ‘good’ relationship is.

“So what?” Yoongi turns towards Jin, “We’re taking it slow”

“Slow my ass, you both act like you’ve been in a long-term relationship”

“Do not” Yoongi argues, feeling stupid that his reply had come off so juvenile.

“Yeah?” Seokjin challenges, and Yoongi knows he shouldn’t take the bait.

But he does, “Yeah”

“Whose lunchbox is that then?” he points at the prettily wrapped lunch that sat before you on the table. New shiny bento box that Yoongi had ordered online especially for you, with enough layers to make sure you would eat a nutritional lunch. With how many sweets you ate, Yoongi worried you spoiled yourself, so he took on the role of your chef; making sure you were eating healthier.

Yoongi coughs, “Mine. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Tease you” Jin laughs, pushing himself from his seat when Yoongi shoots him a hard glare. Waving at the small group before he makes his descent back to his classroom, a small group of students having filled in what was meant to be an easy lunch.  

“I think you’re doing great, Hyung” Jungkook soothes, smiling over at Taehyung who nudges his side.

“Kookie is right, you don’t have to rush into these things. As long as the two of you are happy, that’s all that counts” Taehyung nods.

“Plus, Jin Hyung is definitely projecting, he’s hiding someone. I just know it” Jungkook nods, head falling onto his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Yoongi!” you call as you skip towards his lunch table, perking up at your voice.

“Yes?” he pulls out what was once Jin’s chair, pulling you to sit beside him.

“What do you think about these for Holly?” you shove your phone into his face, “I really like the blue one” you mutter.

“They’re lovely, doll” he smiles, taking your phone so the bright screen wasn’t blaring in his eyes, the images more of a blur of colours, messily mixed like paints on a pallet.

“Personally, my favourite is the purple one” you scroll down when Yoongi places the device on the table. He looks down at the little sweater you have on a website that specialises in dog clothes.

“It’s cute” Yoongi agrees.

“But Yoongs, Holly would look good in like red or something” you sigh dramatically, prominent frown pulled at your pretty lips, begging Yoongi to kiss it away.  

Yoongi scrolls up, eyeing the other dog clothes they had on the website, “Why not get both? One for you and one for Holly” he shrugs, “There’s still a few weeks left of winter”

You nod, small smile now tugging at your lips and Yoongi feels somewhat accomplished. He ignores the intruding stares of his two friends sat across the table, kicking Taehyung’s shin when he opens his mouth to surely make a comment on Yoongi’s somewhat soft behaviour. Emotions on display for everyone to see.

“Okay!” you push yourself to stand, “I’m going to find my credit card” you announce and Yoongi grunts at that.

“I’ll pay” he also stands, but you push him back into his seat, shaking your head.

“No, you won’t. It’s my gift”

“Doll” Yoongi stares up at you, and he thinks he sees a crack in your resolve. He smiles when you cover his eyes with your hand.

“Don’t look at me like that” you whine, skin prickling with goosebumps when Yoongi skims his fingers down your arm, blindly seeking out your touch.

“Like what?” he asks, teasing lilt to his tone.

“Like you can tell me what to do”

“Is that so?”

You pull your hands from his eyes, frowning down at the caretaker, “I’m leaving” you tell him.

“I’ll take you out for dinner then” Yoongi calls when you turn away from the table.

“Okay!” you call over your shoulder, “text me later” you wave at him.

Yoongi turns towards Jungkook and Taehyung who have two annoying smiles plastered on their faces.

“Neither of you say a word” he points between them, “Not one”

+ + +

“Y/n!”

You startle, Yoongi using his hand to cushion your elbow before you could whack it on the edge of the table.

Both you and Yoongi turn towards where the honeyed voice came from, and Yoongi let’s out a low grunt when Namjoon saunters towards the table you’re sat at.

Yoongi had asked you out on a little coffee date, nothing too fancy, something to help the two of you wind down from another hectic week of work.

Yoongi had bought you a cake, getting the one that had little cat ears cut from sugar paper, and got himself a black coffee. You got sweet tea, and then you told him everything you’d been up to, talking of parents that had given you gifts at the start of the semester, and that you’d have to give him one of the funnier mugs for his coffee in the morning.

Everything was serene, perfect even. And Yoongi couldn’t have asked for anything more. His favourite girl by his side, with a perfect cup of coffee. Until Kim Namjoon decided to ruin his good mood.

“Namjoon” you greet, empty smile being thrown at the high school teacher.

“Fancy seeing you here” he laughs, inviting himself to your table. Taking a seat opposite Yoongi. Said man places his hand on your thigh gently, silent reassurance that he is there for you just in case this unplanned meeting goes south. And as much as you wanted to tell him to go away, you knew you would see him around work and the last thing you needed was an awkward encounter in the halls, you could feel your skin crawl at the thought of it.

“Yes, funny coincidence” you squeeze out, turning to look at Yoongi who gives you a curt nod.

“And who’s this?” Namjoon motions towards Yoongi, acting as though he was the one who had just barged into his café date. Eyes narrowing in slight distaste.

“Her boyfriend” Yoongi tells him, smug smile unmissable when Namjoon’s smile drops.

He turns to look at you, as if asking for confirmation. You nod, only deepening Namjoon’s frown. Yoongi’s fingers tighten on your thigh, and you feel a dull throb between your legs when he does, squirming a little in place, and if Yoongi notices, he doesn’t make it apparent.

“I didn’t know you two were—” he wags a finger in your general direction, “a thing” he finishes, the words leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

“Not everyone drones on about their relationships, Namjoon” you point out, finding it hard to fight off the smug smile that threatened to show. You see, Namjoon had a track record of bragging about his escapades, either it be a quick fling with a woman who worshiped the ground he walked on (his words, not yours), or short-term relationships where he would boast about every detail of his sex life. Something you had no interest in.

“If you’ll excuse us, I was enjoying my date” you motion to Yoongi beside you, a bored expression taking over his features.

“You heard her” he adds, motioning for Namjoon to leave. Translation: Fuck off.

Yoongi thinks he sees the tips of Namjoon’s ears flush red, slithering its way down his cheeks and neck, and Yoongi feels his heart swell when you lean against his shoulder; Namjoon glaring at the two of you as he stands up.

“Boyfriend, huh?” you ask when Namjoon is out of your general vicinity.

Yoongi turns to look out the window, his silent wish of you not bringing that up clearly not being heard by some higher power.

“Only if that’s okay with you” he mutters.

“Is this you asking me out?” you laugh, head falling backwards, and Yoongi turns, wanting to catch your smile.

“Y/n?” he calls, hand coming to hold your cheek as you tilt your head back down to look at him.

You hum.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

+ + +

“Okay!” Seokjin claps his hands, “News for this week. Yoongi first”

And all three pairs of eyes land on the caretaker. Now that the weather had started to warm up a little, the sun no longer shying away behind fluffy, cotton candy clouds, lunch times were spent behind the school. Away from students, and the beady eyes of other staff that had a habit of eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations. And then before you knew it, the whole faculty knew about your secrets.

Yoongi places a hand on his chin in thought, “I helped Y/n build a new desk for her classroom and put up some new blinds that she bought. Oh...” he drawls, “And she’s now my girlfriend”

Seokjin’s jaw drops, and Yoongi wants to make a snide comment, being cut out by a loud gasp from his hyung. Jungkook and Taehyung laugh from their spot opposite Yoongi, nodding their congratulations as Jin pinches the bridge of his nose.

“And you didn’t think to text me?” he mutters, mock offense lacing his tone.

“What about your partner Hyung?” Jungkook prods, not missing the wide eyes of the eldest.

“How did you know about that?” he whispers, leaning across the table.

“You were kind of obvious” Taehyung placates, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“So? Who are they?” Yoongi prods, having waited years for his friend to finally spill the beans on this secret relationship he’d been trying to hide (and clearly failed).

“I met her in the town over, she already has a kid, but the father left. We’ve been taking it slow, but I really do like her” he admits, and Taehyung can’t help the mushy smile that takes over his features.

“On the topic of children…” Jungkook trails off, giving a look to his boyfriend, who only nods in encouragement. “We’re planning to adopt”

Yoongi’s eyes widen a little in surprise, it’s not as if the two hadn’t fiddled with the idea of adopting; he just never expected it to be so soon.

“Oh my god” Seokjin cried, “I’m going to be an uncle”

“That’s a really big decision” Yoongi nods, a small smile toying at the edge of his lips.

“It is” Taehyung agrees, “But we both have stable jobs, and a home. Neither of us plan to go anywhere anytime soon”

“What about the wedding?” Jin asks.

“A wedding can happen any time. We both know that we want to spend the rest of our lives together, so there’s no rush really” Jungkook shrugs.

“What about you Hyung? When are you getting married” Taehyung points his attention towards the caretaker.

“He only just asked me to be his girlfriend” your arms wrap around Yoongi’s neck, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss on his cheek.

Yoongi scoots over to make room for you on the bench.

“Not with your friends?” he asks, hand coming to rest on your thigh as you pull your own lunch (courtesy of Yoongi), placing it onto the table.

“Nope” you shake your head, handing him a neatly cut triangular sandwich, “Namjoon came over, so I lost my appetite” you tell him, and he hums in understanding. Muttering a short ‘bastard’ under his breath.

+ + +

Perfect didn’t seem like the right word to describe your relationship with Min Yoongi. It was beyond anything you could have ever asked for. Something that not many people had during their first relationships; trial and error finally pulling you down the path of your soulmate. However, you seemed to hit the jackpot, first try.

Before you knew it a year had flown by, memories floating by like the wind would, caressing your cheek in the morning on the way to school. Days merging into weeks and weeks into months. And even with a mush of weeks and days, Yoongi always made you feel the most special, like you were the only one he had eyes for.

Yoongi had never been the most vocal man, but you’d learnt that he loved you all as much. He would pack your lunches in cute little boxes, and on Friday’s he would slip a little note into your bag with plans for the weekend or a shopping list so you could both wander around the supermarket as soon as the home time bell rigs. He would come to your classroom after school with cold drinks in the summer and overly sweet hot chocolate in the winter.

Although he would never admit it, he really did like the tiramisu from that shitty Italian restaurant at the end of street, and he thought it was ridiculous how many dates the both of you had spent in there. He’d voiced out a concern one evening, you sprawled across his bed like a dream, with your favourite candle lit, and Holly filling the gap between your bodies; he worried he wasn’t doing enough. You had told him you really didn’t care, as long as you were together, even lounging in bed for the day made you happy. And as if to prove a point, you and Yoongi had spent the whole day in bed together, binging your favourite shows (amongst other things).

You walked around fair grounds together, shared secrets between kisses, and it was the small things that he would do for you, that reminded you that Min Yoongi really did love you. Like washing your face of an evening or picking up snacks from the convenience store because he knew you’d ran out.

You remember the evening he opened up about his music, not just a silly little hobby like he had initially told you. He told you about how cathartic it was for him to produce. He showed you notebook upon notebook of lyrics that he had written from his teens through to his adult years; a little window into the man you were dating.

You know he likes dogs more than cats; you know he adores Holly. You know he hates sweet coffee, the bitter taste on his tongue somewhat of a comfort for him. You know he liked to stay home rather than melt within a crowd of rowdy people. And if the two of you ever found yourself trapped with too many sounds and too many bodies, Yoongi would place his hand on the back of your neck, reassurance that he was still there, helping ground you from all the overflowing number of stimuli that were trying to scratch at your brain.

Min Yoongi liked to cook, liked to experiment in the kitchen and he loved it even more when he could cook for you. He liked watching your face light up when you liked something, he liked the way your nose would scrunch up in that cute way when a taste was unfamiliar or too bitter.

Yoongi liked the curtains in your apartment, thin in a way the sun would caress your skin as it woke before you. As he would lay there, fingers trailing over the naked skin of your back, loving the way you’d slowly start to become conscious of the world around you. And the smile that would stretch onto your face, unconditional love mingled with tired eyes as you woke up to the sight of sleep roughed Yoongi first thing in the morning.

Yoongi liked the winter more than he did the summer. Maybe it was because that is when he first worked up the courage to talk to you.

Yoongi liked wearing the colour black, something so simple but looked so good on him. He, however, adored when you’d wear colourful shirts, dresses that complimented the tone of your skin, and he thinks if he were to turn this into a metaphor, you were the one who finally brought colour into his monotone life. An endless cycle of loneliness that he hadn’t realised he was drowning in before he had met you.

Yoongi liked that when you had moved into his home, small parts of you leaked into his, your, living space. Canvases of unfinished paintings, and photos from your childhood. His closet was no longer half empty, overflowing with a concoction of both your clothes. Odd pieces of furniture that you hadn’t wanted to let go of now filling the gaps of his once arguably scarce apartment.

Min Yoongi loved you.

He loved everything about you.

He loved how kind you were, patient in a way that only a kindergarten teacher could be. He liked that with others you always seemed a little reserved, shy in your actions, but with him you had no qualms about what you said or how you acted. Min Yoongi loved you because you always thought of him as much as he thought of you. He would feel his heart flutter when you would leave coffee on the desk in his office or help him pick out what shirt to wear to work.

Min Yoongi loved that you were the last thing he would see before he went to sleep, with his arm slung around your waist, and he loved that from the minute he would wake up, there you were, right by his side.

Min Yoongi loved that you were the last missing puzzle piece of his life. Fitting ever so perfectly in the gap he never knew was missing.

+ + +

“Yoongi, hold on” you gasp, head falling back into the plethora of pillows he had thrown onto the bed.

‘So you’re comfy’ Yoongi had frowned. And if you could think a coherent thought maybe you would thank him. Your head rocking up into the pillow padded headboard; pleasure licking up your spine.

You feel Yoongi’s tongue flick at your clit, a mixture of his own spit and your arousal dripping down his chin like liquid honey. And Yoongi makes sure to try and save every delicious mouthful of your essence. Something so uniquely you, so sweet, something that only Yoongi gets the pleasure to taste; because he had no plans of letting you go anytime soon.

Your boyfriend prods his tongue at your entrance, your legs shaking as his thumb gently brushes over your overstimulated clit. You see, Yoongi had this game, he liked to see how long he could eat you out, and how many times he could make you cum before he fucked you senseless on his cock. Leaving your clit to throb in a mixture of want and denial, swollen from being toyed with.

“One more, baby” he takes a deep breath, wasting no time in diving his tongue into you, molten arousal coating his lips, and as much as Yoongi loved it when your thighs would clamp round his head, today he wanted you bare. Spread out prettily just for him to devour. So, he holds your thighs open, straining them as he tries to push his head as far between your thighs as physically possible, lips pulling into a grin when you thrust your hips to meet his tongue; chasing your own pleasure.

He feels your fingers thread with his hair when he pushes his tongue in a little deeper, thumb still strumming at your clit. And he wonders if he could make you cum from just playing with your clit alone. He’d made you cum just from toying with your nipples once, the picture of you, flushed face, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies as his teeth clamped down on your puffy nipples, red raw from his mouth, and he remembers the surprised moan you’d graced him with when you had come.  

“I can’t” you moan, mouth falling open.

Yoongi grunts, pulling his face away from your cunt, his index finger sinking into your entrance.

“Yes, you can” he tells you, fingers delving, eager to find that spot which will make you see stars, groaning at the sound you let out when he sinks a second finger into your greedy cunt.

He uses his other arm to hold down your waist as you try to eagerly buck into his fingers, little whimpers tumbling from your lips, and Yoongi thinks that was his favourite sound. He had asked once to add your moans to a song, your cheeks had flushed, laughing like Yoongi had been joking. And then your boyfriend had fucked you in his home office, with your hand clamped over your mouth, a little game to see how long you could stay silent.

He was surprised how long you’d been able to keep it up, and it had become his own personal goal to make sure you moaned his name every time he played with you.

“Please, please, please” you whine breathlessly.

“Please what, baby? I can’t help you of you don’t tell me what’s wrong” he frowns, tone mocking as he slows his fingers to a gentle thrust.

“No, no, Yoongi faster please” you cry, tilting your head to look at him, and Yoongi leans up to brush the stray tears from your cheeks, sadistic smile on his face.

“Yeah?” he asks, watching as you nod; pitiful as you rock your hips to try and push his fingers deeper inside of you.

Your boyfriend leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your pouty lips, your sad frown enough for him to finally give you what you want.

He trails his lips down your body, stopping to press a gentle kiss to your nipples, tongue flicking out to toy with them as you wiggle underneath him, shuddering breath reverberating around the otherwise silent room.

“Cum one more time and then I’ll fuck you” he mutters, “Okay, baby?”

You hum, and Yoongi pushes himself off your body.

“Words” he reminds you, and you have to wrack your brain.

“Yes”

“Good girl” he pushes his head back between his legs, something comforting about being here; like Yoongi belonged, sandwiched between your thighs.

Two of his fingers strum at your clit, a breathy chuckle fanning over your sensitive cunt when he laughs as you moan. His tongue lapping up the arousal that had started to dribble from your hole.

“You’re really wet, baby”

You hum, not quite sure you heard him or not. But Yoongi laps up another string of your essence, acting more like a starved puppy than a man, but he supposes he always was a little feral around you.

“Think you can squirt for me?” he grunts, exchanging his tongue for his fingers as the wet muscle in his mouth now plays with your clit.

He suctions the sensitive pearl, teeth grazing it as he sinks three fingers into your hole. You moan into a pillow, thighs once again shaking as Yoongi thrusts his fingers into you in quick succession. He can feel your walls clench around him sporadically, tips of his fingers nudging that spongy tissue as he curls them upwards.

“Cum, baby” he grunts, wrist straining as he tries to keep a steady pace.

He feels his fingers being pushed from your hole as you squirt, his shirt soaking through with your juices. Your thighs shakes as he pushes his fingers back into your cunt, thrusting them in a couple of times before more of your arousal leaks onto the bed sheets.

“How messy” he tuts, pulling his shirt from over his head.

“Your fault” you argue, chest rising and falling, uneasy as you catch your breath.

Yoongi pushes himself up your body, arms flexing as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips; a lot slower, more passionate than those from prior in the evening.

Yoongi brushes a wet piece of hair from your face, your forehead glazed with a thin layer of sweat.

“You did so well for me” he whispers, hands trailing down the sides of your body, an attempt to ground you a little. When he sees a little more clarity in your eyes, legs not still shaking where they rest against his thighs he presses a gentle kiss to your cheeks.

“Think you can take my cock?” he asks, “We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to” he reminds you.

You nod, “I’m okay, I don’t know if I can cum again though”

“Guess we’ll have to check” he pushes himself to sit on his knees.

Yoongi ignores you as you eye his sweats, hard shaft hardly veiled by the grey fabric. And you think you are moments away from jumping the man. With how perfect he looked in the orange glow of the lamplight, chin shining in your arousal. It was hard to stop your pussy from leaking, and it would have been a little embarrassing just how wet you were if you didn’t know Yoongi absolutely loved when you got like this for him.

You watch as he leans across the bed, lithe fingers tugging the drawer open. Your fingers toy with the waist band of his sweats, and Yoongi lets out a breathy chuckle when you tug on them.

Your boyfriend sits up, shiny foil packet held between two fingers, those same two fingers that had brought you to your high twice already tonight.

“Can I help?” you push yourself to sit up, biting your lip at the dull throbbing between your thighs.

Yoongi hands the condom to you, scooting himself off the bed to discard the rest of his clothes. You watch as he pulls off his sweats, having foregone any underwear that evening, and your eyes train on his cock.

You think that your boyfriend maybe had the prettiest cock, he took pride in grooming himself; always making sure to be clean. You can only wonder how long it must have been erected for, cockhead an angry red, shiny with Yoongi’s own arousal, little beads of pre-cum cascading down his length.

You lean forwards, taking the girthy cock into your hands, the familiar weight making you salivate a little. You run the tip over your lips, coating it in Yoongi’s pre-cum.

“No teasing, doll” he grunts, and you smile, pulling back.

You roll the latex over his shaft, leaving it to bob uselessly against the skin of his stomach as he climbs back onto the bed.

“You sure you’re, okay?” he checks, helping lay you down comfortably, lifting the lower half of your body by your ankles, his other hand grabbing a pillow to cushion your hips.

He drops your legs back onto the bed, watching as you smile up at him.

“Come here” you tell him, and Yoongi obliges, humming into the gentle kiss you place on his lips, your own cum still staining the taste of him.

He wraps your thighs around his waist, one arm holds him up as he lines himself with your entrance.

Your mouth falls open into a silent ‘o’ when he pushes the head in, and Yoongi always makes sure to watch your face when he finally fucks you; not only as reassurance that you like what’s happening but so he knows just the right spot to drill into you.

Yoongi holds your hips as you try to rock forwards, his own hips stuttering in anticipation; but he holds himself back, liking the intimacy of having you sprawled out beneath him, fully trusting that he’ll take care of you. There had always been something so fulfilling to Yoongi about these intimate moments with you, your bodies joining to become one, your body pliant to his every move.

His hands leave your hips, skimming up your body before lacing his finger between your own.

“You good?” he whispers, unsure if he could utter anything more with how warm and wet you were, cunt clenching rhythmically around his length.

“Yeah” you whisper back, fingers tightening around his own when he gently pulls out before thrusting back into you.

Something akin to a squeak, tumbles from your lips when Yoongi picks up his pace, hands never letting go of yours as his hips snap forwards, thighs slapping against thighs with nothing more than the music of your bodies filling the silence of your bedroom.

Yoongi can only describe the sounds coming from you as pornographic, his thrusts pushing you up a little on the bed, he feels your nails dig into the skin of his hands, his own grunts mirroring your own pleasure.

“So close, so close” he chants, using whatever strength he has left in his arms to lean down, greedily sucking your left nipple between his teeth, teasing nips sending jolts of pleasure down your body.

Your boyfriend can feel your legs shake as he sucks a love bite just above the sensitive skin of your nipple, your hips bucking to meet his own.

He lets go of one of your hands, “Play with yourself, pretty. Let’s cum together”

You nod, sweat trickling down your neck as you trail a hand down your body. Slicking up your fingers from where Yoongi thrusts into you, your fingers start to play with your clit, jolt of pleasure causing your cunt spasm around Yoongi’s cock.

“Gonna cum” you whine, Yoongi’s teeth clamping around your nipple enough to push you over the edge.

Your legs tighten around his waist, stopping Yoongi’s sloppy thrusts, as you push him as deep inside of you as humanly possible. Your mind a blank slate as it rewires, slowly trying to become conscious of your surroundings.

You feel his cock twitch, his own cum shooting him the condom.

Yoongi collapses on top of you, a rush of air squeezing from your lungs when he lands with a dull thump.

“Ouch” you giggle, not protesting when his arms snake around your waist, flipping the two of over so you lay gently on his chest. 

Yoongi’s fingers brush through your damp hair, “You did so well for me, pretty” he tells you, golden glow of the lamp illuminating him in that post-orgasmic bliss. If you though Yoongi looked good on a normal day, you had been utterly in awe when you’d seen him after he’d came.

“Thank you”

“For what?” he laughs, chest rumbling under your ear.

“Making me cum three times”

“Nothing I like more than my girl feeling good”

You hum at that, trying to push yourself up. Yoongi grunts, tugging you tighter against his chest.

“Yoongs I need to pee, and I feel all sticky” you complain, fingers toying with the divot of his collarbone.

“5 minutes”

“Min Yoongi” you laugh, pinching the skin of his neck.

“Fine but be quick” he loosens his arms. When you push yourself to sit, he pulls you back down.

“Hey!” you complain.

“Need a kiss first” he puckers up his lips, and you indulge him this one time, never in a hurry when it came to kissing your love.

And as you wash up in the bathroom, door slightly ajar where he can see you milling around, his fingers play with the little beaded bracelet you’d gifted him when you spent that first Christmas together.

Yoongi loved you a lot, more than he would ever be able to describe in words. He loved that he could give you a helping hand no matter the situation, and the shiny little ring, hidden away in his nightstand shrouded in a pretty, purple velvet box was his promise to you; that he would stay by your side for the rest of his life.  

Moonstruck | Yandere KNJ x Reader

Preview: Namjoon had this all planned out. Your father was a smart man, but unfortunately, even smart people make stupid decisions. He had abandoned you like a coward, saving his ass like the selfish man he was, thinking that leaving you would be the safest option for the both of you.

If you truly didn’t know where your father was, then maybe he should know where you were. After all, it would be rude to not attend his daughter’s and future son-in-law’s wedding.

Genre: Yandere, Mafia au

Word count: 7,7k

Pairing: Yandere Mafia Boss Namjoon x Florist/daughter of a hitman reader, gangster Seventeen Jun.

Warnings: yandere, forced marriage, stalking, kidnapping, obsession, drugging, blackmail, isolation, murder, use of taser, non consensual touching, non consensual kissing, physicalviolence, abuse of power, manipulation, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, cursing, use of knife but not on people, blood, guns, absent mother, divorced parents, former alcoholic father.

Disclaimer: This type of content is not suitable for all audiences and I do not condone any of the presented behaviours. This is purely for entertainment and fictional purposes and I don’t think any BTS member would act like this.

Authors note: My mind is BLOWN, I did NOT just write something like this did I? Oh well, I hope you guys enjoy the one-shot. Feedback is very much appreciated!💜

Soon. Soon enough will all of this be over.

Growing up and seeing your father avoid and deal with loan sharks since you could remember. Haven’t always been the easiest to handle.

You don’t blame your father because after your mother left your dad stopped working, the drinking got even worse, and for a while you had to live with your grandparents until your dad got his shit together.

After a year he claimed he had gotten everything sorted out, but no one believed him until one day he showed up at your grandparent’s house with a bunch of gifts.

The same day, he treated you to a nice day at the carnival. He brought you all the tasty sweets, went on all the rides with you, and won you a plushy that became your childhood favorite toy.

For a moment, you forget all the pain from seeing your father and mother fighting for years, seeing mysterious cuts and bruises on his body, and seeing your dad get drunk to the point where he would pass out.

It had been a while since you felt happy and hearing your father laugh and smile, it made you feel like everything was fine now.

That was until you found out how fast your fairytale was coming to an end.

“Sweetie, I’m talking to you, don’t walk away!” Your father yelled from the kitchen.

Keep reading

Before I Leave You (Pt.36)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: “okay, not to make this all about me and my meltdown still but- i’m going to feel really guilty for like a week if you don’t actually fuck each other.”

Pairings: Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin, Beta! Yoongi,

Tags: Dom! Jin, Dom! Namjoon, Switch! Yoongi, Sub! m/c, aftercare, safe-wording, hurt/comfort, omegaspace, angst, cuddling, excessive kissing, soft-sex as aftercare, referenced addictive slick, oral (f. receiving), squirting, overstimulation, fingering, group sex, knots, penetration, pain during sex/penetration, monster cock namjoon, size kink, breeding kink, crying during sex (not dacryphilia), overal very soft, cum marking,

W/c: 14.8k

A/n: this chapter is as messy as it is long and unedited but i didn’t want to wait another week to give you guys a new chapter! My brother is visiting from cambodia so i’m a little busy but i’ll try to respond to every comment this time! promise <3

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

Now, one thing that you should know is that Min Yoongi generally considers himself a rational man, and that rationality isn’t limited to his own ego; none of your scene had been new or strange to him- none of it was something that was shocking on principle. 

Some people like getting spanked during sex, so what? 

But knowing it and seeing it are two very different things. 

Yoongi’s biology does not like to see his mate in pain; it goes against every shred of his being and contradicts everything he’s grown to need over the last few months. He’s grown to depend on the daily security of waking up with you in his arms, to know your touch is only a hairsbreadth away at a moments notice. 

Yoongi has only ever wanted to help you heal- but he never stopped to consider what that might look like for you. Honestly, it never even occurred to him that it could look like this. 

Keep reading

All That Glitters | Jimin x Reader

Pairing: Soft(ish) Yandere Jimin x  Reader 

Word Count: 19k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Touching, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Murder, Blood, Abandonment Issues, Attempted Sexual Assault (Not By Jimin), Tsundere Reader, Insinuation of Smut (It’s spicy just not very descriptive),Bullying 

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview: With the sudden news that you are set to inherit a fortune after the passing of a distant relative you are ready to become an heiress. The only problem is that there is a clause in the contract: in order to receive your inheritance you must be married. So, who better to marry than your high school stalker?

A/N: It’s 3 in the morning and I’m exhausted. This is still the condensed version of the fic. I should have just made it a two part series. Let me know if you would prefer if I cut this fic in half and post them as two parts, whatever is more digestible. Okay, I love you, I can’t wait to see you in the comments and my inbox 💜💜💜

Note: It is not specified where the fic takes place, the school system suggests South Korea but the MC’s job suggests America (the job is a vent piece about my old job) so let’s pretend this stupid car wash chain exists in SK 😂

You let out a deep, tired sigh as you toed your shoes off. Everything was hurting from the arches of your feet to the bend of your shoulders. 

Each day had become utterly boring and utterly the same. It had been another long day of work, longer than you had ever imagined in your youth. When you were younger you had expected so much more of yourself. You had thought by now, at the ripe age of twenty-six, you would have had a high power career, an apartment with a view of the city, and perhaps a boyfriend…or two. 

But life had punched you square in the gut and body slammed you with a reality check. You had spent four years in undergrad slowly accumulating mass amounts of student debt before deciding you hadn’t had enough and wasted four more years in graduate school. You had been lulled into a false sense of comfort. All your life you had been told that you were to go to college, get a degree, and then get a “real” job. You had been dismayed to learn that despite all of your efforts you never secured a job for yourself after graduation. 

In fact, even now you didn’t have the job you had worked so hard for. Instead, you were busting your ass working a minimum wage job catering to ungrateful customers who had been fortunate enough to enter the job market twenty or even thirty years before you who all believed that they deserved your undivided attention and service. 

You were just barely managing nowadays. Your apartment was more of a closet than an apartment. Everything was confined to one room, kitchen, dining, and bedroom, all except for the bathroom. You had a faucet that never stopped leaking and the oddest stains on the wall that you refused to question anymore. To put it plain and simple, you were fucking miserable. 

Keep reading

Reader works at a cafe and unknowingly gets stalked by a customer named Jimin. He waits for her after work to confess his love, when she gets freaked out, he is offended/mad and takes her.

“One Vanilla Latte, please.”

It was him again. You had learned that his name was Jimin, he always loved to have a little chat while you prepared him his coffee. Unknowingly to you, he actually hated that coffee — but he knew it was your favorite so he always ordered one.

Jimin was a very flirty customer, but you didn’t mind too much. He was handsome and always left a grandiose tip for you, so you never complained. Though lately he had gotten a little. . persistent. He had asked you for your number a few times already, and although you had always politely declined so far, he would ask the same question again the next day. You couldn’t deny that he was beautiful and very charming, though you weren’t really looking for anything at the moment. There were other things on your mind.

“Here you go.” Handing him the hot cup with a gentle smile, his fingertips brushing over your own ever so slightly and you could swear you heard him sigh at the brief touch. Jimin refused to ask for your number this time, though that did not mean he accepted defeat. No, he had a very thoughtful plan for tonight. He had watched you deliberately, day in and day out — every second he could spare he would spend in your shadow.

He had learned every tiny little detail of your daily routine, you’r alarm would ring at 8am sharp every morning and you’d go straight to your bathroom where you would spend approximately fifteen minutes before you would come out again. A quick breakfast that would vary with each day, sometimes you wouldn’t have anything at all and would just get a croissant at the Café. At exactly 9:30am he would come in and order his usual Vanilla Latte — that he absolutely despised. Jimin only ordered the sweet drink because it was your own favorite. Though it was worth it to have your attention focused solely on him and having your sweet smile directed at him and him only.

The redhead had already gotten rid of a few other customers that had — in his opinion — been a little too friendly with you. Despite all the times you had rejected him, he knew you would eventually cave and give in to him. Jimin was delusional, drunk on love and a very possessive man. He was patient, but he wouldn’t wait forever. And tonight was the night he would act. No matter if you wanted him or not, he would decided that fate for you.

At 8pm sharp you stepped through the glass doors of the Café and locked the building up. With a heavy sigh and an even heavier bag on your shoulders you dropped the key inside your pockets and turned around to walk home. Though it had seemed someone had been waiting around for you to finally step out of the Café.

“Finally! I knew you had a long shift today, but it felt like I was waiting forever.” The male whined, long fingers curling around your shoulder to keep you close. It took you a few seconds to comprehend, to understand the situation and make Jimin out as the culprit. His grip wasn’t strong but firm enough to make you uncomfortable. And his words confused you greatly.

“What are you talking about? Why were you waiting for me?” Your voice seemed to waver slightly, pulling back a little but it barely seemed to faze him. There were no other people around and you were dreading something awful. You had already pegged Jimim as quite persistent, though you wouldn’t have expected him to wait around until he would get you alone.

“Would you please—” Your protest quickly got cut off by his excited voice. “But! You’re here now!” He exclaimed, pulling you back by your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for this day, (Y/N). Day in and day out I’ve been waiting, but even I get impatient, darling. And I can’t wait anymore.”

His words were starting to worry you a little, now a bit more desperately trying to put some distance between the both of you. You could see his left eye twitch at your resistance, but his big smile never faded. Perhaps now you could finally see the delusion swimming in his brown eyes, the love that he had for you. But now was already too late, he had you in his grasp and he would never let go again. No words could leave your lips, shaking your head slightly at the absurd situation he was putting you in. “I really don’t want to do this the hard way, my love.”

He was speaking so sweetly, reaching up place his free hand on your cheek and caress your skin ever so softly. Those words made you halt your movements almost instantly, was he. . threatening you? Your body seemed to move on it’s own, slapping his hand away with a swift movement. You finally seemed to gain enough strength to pull out of his grip and take a few steps back — only to bump against the locked glass doors behind you. Silence followed your resistance, and it terrified you even more than his words before. You could feel the hairs on your neck standing up, shifting from one foot to the other. The whole situation made you extremely uncomfortable and worried.

The silence broke with a sinister chuckle, Jimin’s whole body seemed to tremble with quiet laughter before it stopped as abruptly as it came. His head lifted to look down on you, glaring almost. “Don’t be stupid, (Y/N). Come here and be a good girl.” He mumbled, holding his hand up for you to take but you only stared at him in disbelief. A few seconds passed by with Jimin staring you down before he sighed in disappointment, dropping his hand to his side.

“I really didn’t want to have to result to this,” Jimin shot you a apologetic smile, pulling a small tissue out of his pockets. “But you gave me no choice. This is your own fault, darling, remember that.” And with those words he lunged forward, pushing you back against the glass doors with a strong grip on your shoulder and pressing the cloth over your nose and mouth. The impact had you gasping, instantly inhaling the chloroform and slumping together in his grip.

“Sleep tight, little (Y/N). I’ll be patient one last time until you wake up.”

Sexcapade

Your neighbour has a series of unfortunate sex-related mishaps, and he keeps asking for your help.

Pairing: Jimin x F! reader

Rating: 18+ (but SFW)

Genre: Non-idol AU, fluff, crack

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex toys

You’re half-asleep when you open the door to your apartment, but even if you’d been fully awake, you would still have struggled to put the pieces together.

There’s a quite attractive man in a baggy white sweatshirt smiling at you, hands shoved in his pockets.

‘I’m Jimin, your neighbour,’ he says.

You’re already automatically introducing yourself in turn, saying what a pleasure it is to meet him.

You blame your years in boarding school.

‘I was wondering if you might be able to help me,’ Jimin says.

You watch, incredulous, as he lifts his right hand out of his pocket, revealing the silver handcuffs dangling from his wrist.

‘Just got out of custody?’ you ask.

‘It was a sex thing,’ Jimin replies smoothly.

‘Why can’t your partner undo you?’

‘I was alone.’

Now you’re fully awake.

You look at each other for what seems like a full minute. The man doesn’t even have the decency to blush.

Then you nod. ‘Sure.’

You get Jimin to wait on your couch whilst you grab a paper clip from your desk.

‘Where are the keys?’ you ask, as you start to jimmy the catch.

‘I have no idea,’ Jimin says. He holds out his arm to help you, and you notice that he has quite nice wrists. They’re veiny, warm, and there’s strength in his grip. A thin gold chain dangles from the wrist you’re holding.

You cry out in triumph as the handcuff clicks open, freeing Jimin.

Jimin rubs his wrist gingerly. ‘You look like you’ve done that before.’

‘Seems a bold statement to make given we don’t know each other,’ you say pertly.

Jimin nods. ‘Thanks for freeing me.’

You wave him off with a flourish. ‘Anytime.’

You reconsider. ‘Wait – not anytime!’ you call out after him.

Jimin’s only response is to laugh as he heads for your door.

Annoyingly, his laugh is as pretty as the rest of him.

***

You’re in the middle of a virtual meeting when the sounds start filtering in from next door.

You’re on mute, but you have to give a presentation in the next twenty minutes, and the noises coming through are definitely inappropriate for your team meeting.

You close your window in the hope of keeping out the sound whilst you debate what to do.

You’re new to the team, and you’re trying to make a name for yourself.

Preferably not as that person who had porn playing in the background during her presentation.

You excuse yourself and head next door.

It’s a wonder your neighbour can hear you knocking over the out-and-out shrieking.

Jimin opens the door, running a hand through his blond hair. He looks remarkably composed, given the context. His shirt is unbuttoned, untucked.

His chest and torso are beautiful, but that’s not the point.

‘I’ve got to do a presentation in the next twenty minutes. I don’t want to be known as the porn girl,’ you say, brisk.

Jimin nods. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll turn it down.’

‘Just for an hour,’ you say.

You marvel at how blatant he is, how he isn’t showing even an ounce of contrition that the entire building is aware he’s watching porn in the middle of the afternoon.

You wonder what he does for a living.

Jimin raises an eyebrow at you. ‘Sorry. Anything else I can do for you?’ he asks.

There’s a smile playing on his lips, a hint of flirtatiousness in his tone.

You don’t have time for this.

‘No, that’s it, thanks,’ you say, briskly. You head back to your apartment and bolt the door.

***

It’s been a hell of a day at work. You’re pouring yourself a glass of wine, flicking through the options on Netflix when there’s a knock at your door.

You run to the door, and it’s only when the door opens and you see Jimin standing on the other side that you realise it’s too quick for it to be the pizza you ordered.

Jimin’s holding a dishcloth to his forehead.

‘I’m sorry to ask again, but can you help me?’

He’s about to lift the dishcloth off then he stops and looks at you, assessing.

‘Are you squeamish?’

‘Fuck,’ you reply, fuelled by wine. ‘Is there brain under there?’

‘No, just a cut I think, I can’t see it properly.’

You take another gulp of your wine, then pass it to Jimin.

Jimin takes a long swig. ‘Ready?’

‘You should sit down in case you pass out,’ you say, sensible.

Jimin eyes you. ‘We should both sit down.’

‘Hey, buddy, you came to me to help,’ you remind him.

You end up sitting across from each other on the couch.

Jimin lifts off the dishcloth.

You stare, unimpressed, at the long thin shallow slash above his left eyebrow.

‘Is that it?’

Jimin looks at you in disbelief. ‘There was a lot of blood.’

‘I wouldn’t even put a bandaid on that,’ you say, dismissive.

‘It’s my face!’ says Jimin.

He’s still clutching your wine, so you pour yourself another glass.

‘It’ll heal before you know it,’ you say.

There’s another knock at the door, so you open it.

Thank god, it’s your pizza and not another neighbour with a sex-related injury.

‘How’d you cut it?’ you ask, setting your pizza down.

‘Flogger,’ Jimin mumbles.

You shudder. ‘Did someone hurt you, Jimin?’

‘I needed to see it in motion,’ Jimin says.

You don’t want to ask any other questions.

‘Pizza?’ you offer, out of politeness.

‘Sure,’ Jimin says, settling in on your couch like he belongs there. ‘Can I get more wine too?’

***

Three glasses of wine in, you’ve learned a few more things about your neighbour Jimin. Firstly, that his surname is Park and he’s from a city not far from yours.

Secondly, that he’s a photographer for a high-end sex toy company.

It explains all the sex toys he’s been playing around with.

It doesn’t explain his very loud and very obtrusive afternoon porn-fest from the other afternoon, but you’re not sure you want to go there.

Thirdly, that he’s funny.

At first you were laughing at him, but now you realise that he’s making you laugh. You like it.

‘I’ve got a model coming in tomorrow for a shoot,’ Jimin tells you.

‘Don’t you have a studio for that?’ you ask. You don’t really care, you’re out all day tomorrow anyway, but you’re curious.

‘It’s a friend, he says he’d be more comfortable at mine,’ Jimin shrugs.

You finish off the last of your wine. ‘Sure. I’ll get my first aid kit ready. And my lock-picking paperclip.’

Jimin looks affronted at your tone. ‘These accidents could happen to anyone. You never said how you got so good at unlocking handcuffs.’

‘We don’t know each other well enough for that yet,’ you mutter.

Jimin’s tone goes silky. ‘I found the keys.’

You laugh. ‘Get out of my apartment, Jimin. I have a long day tomorrow.’

***

You peer around the corner of your landing. The coast appears to be clear.

You’re unlocking the door, pushing it open, when Jimin’s door opens.

‘Y/N!’ he calls. ‘We need your help.’

‘Just call an ambulance,’ you call back.

Jimin rushes to you and grabs your arm. ‘Please.’

For the umpteenth time since you met him, you wonder why God saw fit to put such a hot mess inside such a beautiful package.

‘What do you –’

The words die on your lips when you enter Jimin’s apartment.

In front of you, a white sheet carelessly draped low, low over his hips, is an insanely hot man.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in his curly dark hair, the light sheen on his skin, the tattoos on his right arm, his beautiful body.

He sits up when he sees you, and the sheet slides even lower.

You’re transfixed.

‘Y/N!’ Jimin says, and you snap to attention.

You turn your back on the hot man to look at Jimin.

‘I need your feet,’ Jimin tells you.

You wait, both for him to finish what he’s saying and for your composure to come back. You can hear the rustling of sheets behind you.

‘Explain, Park Jimin,’ you prompt when Jimin looks like he’s just going to keep staring at you.

‘Your feet. Can you pose with JK?’

‘No! I just got back from work. I can’t pose.’

‘You have great feet,’ Jimin coaxes.

There’s throat clearing from behind you. ‘I’m JK.’

‘Are you decent?’ you snap.

‘I’m a good guy,’ he says, sounding hurt.

‘Are you wearing clothes,’ you clarify.

You hear the snap of an elastic band. ‘I am now.’

You turn around and shake the hand JK’s holding out. His briefs are tiny, you guess he has a loose definition of ‘dressed’. You think he probably gets away with it because of the way he looks.

‘I’ll pay you,’ Jimin says.

‘I’m not a model, Jimin.’

‘I’ll get you dinner after the shoot.’

Now you’re intrigued.

‘What do I need to do?’

***

JK, or Jungkook as his name turns out to be, looks at you over the grill. He hasn’t stopped eating since you got to the restaurant. You wonder where the hell he’s putting it.

You swipe the last cooked strip of beef before he can take it.

Jimin obligingly lays out more strips of raw beef to cook.

‘I think these pictures are going to turn out amazing,’ he says. ‘Thanks for your help, Y/N.’

‘Anytime,’ you say wearily.

‘Yeah, I’d be happy to work with you again,’ Jungkook tells you. He seems sincere. He looks different fully dressed, more of a casual college kid than a Greek god. You think maybe it’s his wide eyes and slightly sticky out teeth. Or maybe it’s the smear of sauce across his cheek from the ribs.

‘Um, thanks?’ you say doubtfully.

You’re still trying to get over having had your feet in his naked lap for the last hour.

Jimin beams at you. ‘You’re a natural.’

‘To our new working relationship,’ Jungkook says, smiling at you, raising his glass.

‘I’ll cheers to that but I think I’m sticking to my day job,’ you say, hastily.

Jimin laughs. ‘You’re difficult to rattle.’

‘Have you been trying to rattle me?’ you ask.

Jimin just smiles.

‘If you knew anything about me, you’d know that sex isn’t the way to rattle me,’ you say, rolling your eyes.

Jimin looks at you thoughtfully.

***

You groan as you drag yourself out of bed to answer the door.

‘This better be good, Park,’ you say, rubbing your eyes. ‘It’s the crack of dawn.’

Park Jimin’s standing on your doorstep, holding out a small bunch of posies and a cup of coffee to you.

He’s beautifully dressed, fresh as the flowers he’s holding.

He smells amazing.

You’re rattled.

You blink at him.

‘What the hell is this?’ you ask.

‘This is me asking you out,’ he tells you.

You blink again, wondering if you’re dreaming.

‘You’re beautiful, you’re funny, and you take things in your stride,’ Jimin says. ‘Can I take you to dinner?’

‘Are you serious?’ you ask.

He smiles at you, charming, sexy, and you’re smiling back.

‘So will you let me take you out?’ Jimin asks.

You sniff the flowers he’s pressed into your hands. They smell like spring, like new beginnings.

You smile. 'Maybe I can show you how to use handcuffs properly,' you say.

Jimin smiles back. ‘I’ll be back tonight to pick you up for dinner, then I think I'd like to take you up on that.’

You laugh, and Jimin walks away, his own silvery laughter echoing down your hallway.

©hamsterclaw 2022

reblog this if your blog is a safe space on april fools and won’t have any jumpers, screamers, or anything scary or anxiety inducing

all aboard! (the passion express) | knj

Pairing: namjoon x reader

Genre: smut, office worker!namjoon.

Word count: 10.8k

Summary: There were not many things that got your blood boiling in the same way that two simple words could. Kim Namjoon. The name of your irritating and (unfortunately enough, as the universe would have it) incredibly handsome co-worker. Which is exactly why you never expected to find your self on your knees for him on the train home.

⇢ (or: in which Namjoon thinks you’re hot when you’re mad.)

Warnings: extremely public sex, dom namjoon, exhibitionism, oral (m recieving), thigh riding, kinda daddy kink, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), rough sex. also, namjoon in a shirt and tie (yum).

A/N: so. this happened. PURE FILTH. remind me not to scroll through “office worker namjoon” mood boards at 1am. p.s. train toilets r always gross so don’t do this (i warned u).

Playlist: visit my playlist page here and select “all aboard”.

⇢ Masterlist: x (links will be added once tumbr stops being a douche :/)

Keep reading

CURTAIN

Taehyung never got around to buying curtains for his glass-walled apartment - a decision he didn’t regret until he realized people could see some private things, such as his routine 5 p.m. masturbation session.

⤑ word count: 4.8k ⤑ genre: smut (masturbation), mature themes, strong language, strangers to lovers!au (kind of), exhibitionism ⤑ rating: 18+

Keep reading

I love the Flower couple! Always so cute, and it's nice to see oc has grown more, or at least has become more confident in herself.

"This is my wife.." Got me happier than I care to admit!

Give the Flower series a read. It's amazing!

Flower | Drabble 5

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Another little drabble! It's hard to give this couple up 🥺 this is also a scene that was basically deleted from the main series, so it's been given a time jump! I didn't want people to think it was a cliche moment (it kinda is) but...I think this gives some good clarity on how the MC has grown! Unedited as on mobile.

-

"Do you think your mom will like this?" You query, brows farrowing together as you turn the elegantly decorated plant pot around in your hands. It would match her current living room decor and she loved gardening.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah...why?" Hoseok asks with a distracted tone, his attention grabbed with the collection of fake plants. The two of you had come to a home decoration store as you wanted to redecorate your bedroom. He wasn't hugely interested in how it was done and you were pretty sure that he was here just to spend time with you.

Which was sweet and you loved that he was content to just be with you, but he wasn't being very helpful right now.

"...her birthday? It's next week, we're taking her out for dinner, remember?" He pauses for a moment before his lips turn into a circle.

"Oh yeah, shit. I need to book the table for that." Before you can say anything else, he's pulling out his phone and tapping away on it.

Sighing, you place the pot into the cart and begin to look with an eye for your bedroom. You wanted to inject more plants into the house but Kasumi just tried to eat real ones, so you were stuck with fake plants.

"How about C'est Bonne? Wait no, she doesn't like French food. Hmmm, Italian feels boring though. Do you think she'd like Thai, I think that'd be alright." Hoseok is muttering to himself as he scrolls and you smile affectionately.

To say he'd completely forgotten, you weren't surprised that he was throwing himself into it now.

"Hoseok?" For a moment, neither of you respond. You, because it wasn't your name and so you weren't conditioned to respond to it, and Hoseok because it wasn't your voice.

His head jerked up in confusion, gaze going to you first before looking around. The voice calls again from your left and you turn to see who it is, wondering who was calling out your husband's name.

What you didn't expect is for Hoseok's face to open in surprise, shocked recognition taking over his expression. Like, real shock and you're even more confused and intrigued.

"Yoona?" He asks, his tone slightly unsure and you realise it's obviously someone he once knew. You've heard him mention the name at some point, but you can't remember why you know it.

"It is you! Oh my god, it's so good to see you. How long has it been?" The woman in question, Yoona, smiles brightly and you observe that she's pretty. Very pretty with the kind of hair you see in commercials.

She's wearing plain black jeans that conform to her legs alongside a subtly flowered shirt. Her black pea coat tops it off with a matching deep purple scarf and beanie to cope with the colder weather.

"Err...a while." Hoseok laughs, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck and you recognise the awkward movement. He's a little uncomfortable and your stomach turns as you wonder if this is one of his hook ups.

Surprisingly, you'd never met one of them given how prolific he'd been. Though you did wonder how many of them had also been drunk and probably didn't remember him at all.

Still, you feel the urge to comfort him and move closer, resting your hand on his back in assurance. He straightens a little at the touch before relaxing into you, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulder and hugging you into him a little more strongly than you'd anticipated.

"Oh, Meeps this is Yoona, the girl in college who got me to sort my shit out?" Hoseok's brows rise as his voice turns dry before he looks back at Yoona. "This is Y/N, my wife."

Her eyes flick over to you and surprisingly enough, she doesn't give you a once over. You almost expected her to view you as some kind of threat or rival, but the reassuring smile she gives makes you realise how silly that would be.

"Really? Oh my god, Hoseok! I'm so happy for you, and for you, Y/N! I always knew he had the makings of a good partner, even if he couldn't see it. I'm glad you finally took my advice." Yoona says before reaching out to shake your hand politely.

Surprisingly, it's not nearly as awkward as you'd think to meet one of your husband's ex-flings. Especially one who'd had such an influence on his life.

"Erm, thank you. Hoseok's talk about you sometimes, thank you for helping him back then." You say shyly, feeling your stomach twist uncertainly as you take your hand back and play with your fingers.

Just like he always has, Hoseok instinctively knows when you're not comfortable and he reaches for one of your hands. 

"I've told her lots of things over the years," He grins before kissing your forehead. "My therapy was very good, I promise."

That's directed to Yoona who laughs sweetly and nods in appreciation.

"Good, good, I'm glad. Anyway, I've got to be going but...it was nice to see you! And I'm really happy that you've found someone. I'd love to get to know you better but I'm sure you're amazing. Gotta be to have captured this guy's attention." She smiles and gestures towards you, causing you to feel hot with embarrassment.

"Erm, thank you." You mutter, unsure of how to react. But you're surprisingly okay with her and don't feel any form of threat, even with her important history with Hoseok. It was clear there were no feelings between either of them and you genuinely felt that she was a good person.

Before either of you could say anything else, she said her goodbyes and headed towards the cashiers at the front of the store. There was a brief moment of silence as you both tried to compute what had happened and Hoseok recovered quicker than you did.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, his words laced with concern that matched the worry in his eyes. You knew why he was feeling like that - Yoona was beautiful, once upon a time he'd slept with her and she'd helped him realise how to move forward. Or at least take the steps there.

If this had happened in the first year of your relationship then you probably would feel disconcerted, unsure what to think about this blast from his past. But you weren't that girl anymore, and whilst you still had your anxieties, you had full and complete faith in Hoseok.

Plus, he'd been as blindsided by her as you were. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was nice to finally meet the famous Yoona, she seemed nice." You comment, slipping your arm through his and leaning against him as you both walked towards the bedroom section. Bring so close to him meant that you could practically feel him relax at your words.

"Good, good. I didn't...well I didn't know what to think, really. I was worried you'd be upset or something." Hoseok admits, trailing his hand down your coat sleeve until he can grasp your fingers between his own.

"No, I know all about your history and it was only a matter of time before we met someone. And like I said, she was sweet." There's still some uneasiness in his demeanour though and you squeeze his hand before gently poking the back of it with a finger.

The movement makes him smile and you feel relief at him looking a little happier.

"Seriously, I'm okay. Are you okay?" It was probably a big thing to accidentally meet up with such an important fling, but but could understand why he wasn't comfortable with it all.

That was a part of his past that he wasn't entirely happy with colliding with his very happy present. So you just held on to him as he worked through his feelings.

"Yeah...yeah I am. It was just weird to see her, you know? Never expected that." He let's his free hand trail over a soft, velvet cushion idly and you hum in contemplation.

"I get it. But don't fret over it, okay? I'm fine with it all and...well, it was nice to meet the woman who helped to bring the Hoseok I know to life. Or at least, started the process. Without her, we wouldn't be here."

Hoseok is silent as he considers that, his lips twisting before he licks at his lip ring and nods.

"Yeah, you're right. She's the one part of my past that I'm okay with you seeing in person. I should've thanked her…" Muttering, he sighs before shrugging with a lopsided smile.

"Oh well, let's carry on shopping. Your decorations await! And I need to finish booking that table...I'm actually thinking of maybe trying that Lebanese place…"

I'm a sucker for childhood sweethearts 💜

yoongi x reader

requested by @ughtear​ ( Hi! I was just able to see your post and I was wondering if I could request prompt 3+1 (three times he proposes and the one time you say yes) with Yoongi? The idea of it makes me so soft! Also, I’m new at requesting so I don’t know what format is 🥺)

genre: fluff

words: 1.8k of cute stuff!!

synopsis: 3+1 (Three times Yoongi proposes and the one time you say yes)

masterlist | events masterlist

Kindergarten was such a hassle for young Yoongi. Coloring within the lines and connecting the dots were too exhausting and all he wanted was for nap time to come. He should be at home sleeping with his blanket in hand. Hatred for school aside, Yoongi wasn’t very social. He was a shy boy who would rather listen to some tunes even if he didn’t understand the lyrics that well. 

Well, he couldn’t exactly hate school.

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Our ‘Get Along’ Shirt - pjm

⇢ another day, another endless round of you and Jimin bickering. It’s never ending, all-consuming, and your friends have had enough. Namjoon decides to end it once and for all - with help from a shirt for squabbling toddlers.

Genre/warnings: smut, 18+! ‘enemies’-to-lovers, swearing, semi-public smut, mutual masturbation, fingering, honestly at this point a sweat kink, multiple orgasms, light choking, some spitting, unprotected sex, creampie.

Words: 14.2k lol

A/N: well hello! I’m back baby, and to celebrate i had to exorcise some Jimin demons. Did i talk about him sweating a lot? Yes. Did i use my favourite pic of him for the header? Also yes. Don’t @ me, i already know. I hope you enjoy!!!

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hey, i thought i should let you know that @bubblegumbi0tch has a fic called ,Heat‘ where they copied the first part of ,Run little Rabbit‘ and only changed out the characters???? they even left one hoseok in there by mistake 💀💀💀 sorry that happened :(

You're right, they have plagiarised it. And plagiarised it badly by leaving Hoseok's bloody name in it.

I've messaged them and told then to delete. I'd recommend others check this tumblr's work to see if your work has been blatantly ripped off.

For proof, here's the literal side by sides.

my fic got stolen and put on wattpad

I’ve just been informed that someone’s stolen one of my fics (peaches and cream) and is passing it off as their own - it seems as though I’m not the only author who’s been stolen from, either. if you guys could look through this and recognise any other authors and let them know, that would be great! apparently wattpad only allows the original author to report?

either way, I know the majority of you would NEVER but please don’t plagiarise/repost other people’s fics guys. that shit’s not cool

Black Swan (Jimin x Reader)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Cursed Jimin, Stalking, Obsession, Forced Relationships, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Depictions of dead bodies, Devious Intentions, Depictions of Weapons, Mourning, Self Harm, Massacre, Murder, Isolation, Drowning, Allusions to Religion (Use of the word Heathen)

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

<<Forbidden Fables Masterlist>>

Preview:  A princess’s job is to learn etiquette and to marry, so why did you derail from that path? All it took was one instant of you departing from your fiancé’s hunting party to become lost in the enchanted forest and to stumble upon a cursed man who doesn’t believe in love. He must be so lonely…do you dare to befriend him?

A/N: Hello my loves! This is my last fic for the Forbidden Fables Collab! I have had so much fun working on this series with my fellow authors and I still cannot believe that they invited me to be a part of it in the first place. This was literally so much fun, and I think I may actually like this fic better than Run Little Red so that’s interesting 👀 Anyways, happy reading, I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and in the comments 💜💜💜

The carriage you were sitting in was jostling you to and fro, the motion making your stomach twist in uneasy knots. 

You tried your best to lean your head out of the open window, the fresh summer breeze being the only relief to your motion sickness. You despised traveling by carriage, but the journey you were making was long and near impossible to make by foot. 

Not to mention, you were a princess, and a princess never walked to her destination. She was always escorted by a squad of knights and enclosed in a horse-drawn carriage for her safety. 

The day would have been a lovely one, had you not been confined to a space that made you sick and were being sent to another place you so deeply despised. 

Your wedding date had been looming over your head for months, and now with it coming closer and closer, you were instructed to have supervised visits with your fiancé. Your parents had been enthralled with the idea of you being wed to him, his kingdom was vast, prosperous, and wealthy. He was, by all means, the perfect suitor if he wasn’t so goddamn dense. 

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KISS, MARRY, KILL.

━ “in which you’re the only person counted on to kill the villainous king of the land. however, you find yourself not being able to do it on the night you’re supposed to fulfill your duty because of one great flaw: your growing affection for king hoseok.” ━ king!hoseok x reader | 1.5k words. | 18+ | light angst, royalty au, e2l au | warning/s: swearing, suggestive sexual themes, light groping, attempted murder, hoseok is not really a good guy here (lmao idk why i have to say this bUT THIS IS OBVS FICTION SO DONT GO FOR GUYS LIKE THIS IRL), implied toxic relationship

gain the trust of the king and assassinate him once the timing is right—that was what your father told you a day before your marriage with his majesty, jung hoseok.

you nodded and promised that you would go forth with the task and succeed no matter what; that you were determined to do the people of the kingdom a favor by killing the tyrant they absolutely feared, the tyrant who took advantage of their money and their living, the tyrant who ordered to kill their husbands and sons when they went against his orders and started an impromptu war, the tyrant that they no longer challenged because they knew that if they did, more of them would perish.

the plan was simple. hoseok was to be attracted to you, you were to pretend to reject his advances, and that move was supposed to make him want you more—which it did, because for no more than a month since the first time you made your presence known to the king that he immediately commanded your father to give his only daughter to him in exchange for wealth and protection. and of course your father agreed, with initial contempt, to not make himself suspicious, before eventually letting you be taken away.

now, it has been a year and 10 months, and yet you still haven’t done what you were trusted to do. you told the people back in the house where you grew up in that you were being thorough whenever you visited and they questioned you, explaining to them that you were just aiming to truly make yourself look honest and reliable to his majesty, so that once the day comes and you slay him with no remorse, he would certainly not see it coming and make the gesture of betrayal itself more painful.

however, waiting too long definitely had other shortcomings that you didn’t foresee, for you never anticipated that your hatred towards the king would decrease as each day passed by and you spent more time hearing his sweet compliments and praises towards you—his gentleness and his concern to make you comfortable enough to live freely in the castle as his queen. to put it plainly, you undeniably weren’t ready to meet the rather kind man that he was when he wasn’t in front of his people and was ruling the kingdom in his indulgence rather than in his service.

you were falling for hoseok. the more that thought sunk in, the more it was getting harder to go forth with your task.

on the night of your second wedding anniversary though, after the both of you aggressively made love for a bunch of rounds and hoseok was already soundlessly sleeping on the bed, you decided that it was going to be the moment that you were finally going to kill him.

as quietly as you could, you reached under the bed where you previously planted the dagger you were going to use as the murder weapon to assassinate the king, grasped it tightly between your fingers, and faced forward while hoseok remained turned to the other side, completely oblivious to what you were about to execute. taking deep and slow breathes, you brought the flat side of the blade to your lips, kissed it as an apology to the man you have grown to love, and without thinking about it more that could be the reason of further possible delay—you clenched your jaw and swung your leg over to hoseok’s body, forcing him to lay on his back in an attempt to get a clean cut against his throat.

but just as you managed to lock him under you, knees placed on both sides of his hips to prevent him from moving, and your hand with the dagger already up in the air to slice his neck, a strong force stops it once it was centimeters away from his skin, and you quickly flickered your gaze upwards to look at hoseok’s face, witnessing then that his eyes were wide open and he had a little smirk plastered on his mouth.

“took you long enough, darling,” he husked, his grip on your wrist tightening. “i was just about to feel guilty for ever doubting your love for me.”

you were unconsciously tearing up, pushing your hand forward, still intent to finish what you have to do despite what you felt, using your other hand to assist its twin but hoseok was quick to grab that one too. “you’re a terrible man,” you muttered with gritted teeth. “you don’t deserve to sit on the throne.”

“i am a terrible man,” his defiance was apparent still with the way his hold was becoming firmer, not granting you the opportunity to even let the blade brush against his skin, “not sure about the part where i don’t deserve the throne though. but those two reasons should be enough to make killing me the easiest thing in the world, right?”

you grunted, your hand shaking in persistence, for you were now using all the strength that you had left to get it done, your upper body rising to put more force on your wrist.

“so, why can’t you do it? why can’t you kill me faster, love?” he furrowed his eyebrows, his expression mocking. “i know you can do better than this—could have done this way earlier too.”

“shut up.”

“you don’t look as desperate as you should be. perhaps you’re just too pathetic and weak to become a murderer.”

your grip was starting to hurt from keeping your posture too long.

hoseok grinned. “or maybe it’s the fact that you just can’t do it because you grew attached to your terrible husband to ever do.” hoseok laughed, the sound echoing inside the chamber. “is that it, ____? you love me too much now to let me die?”

you let out a growl of anger. “i said shut up—”

“—then kill me to shut me up!” he hissed, suddenly pulling your dagger closer, the cold blade finally touching his skin.

you exhaled harshly through your nose, gasping a little, irritated and pained, a tear of yours landing on his bare chest while he allowed the sharp weapon to cut a bit of his flesh, causing him to bleed.

at the sight of his blood flowing down the side of his neck and unto the mattress, you whimpered and abruptly let go of the dagger, deeming yourself as indeed too weak to continue with what’s been assigned to you because just like he said—just like what he’s been mocking you for—you already sickeningly loved him too much now to even want a small wound like this to be inflicted on his body.

the confirmation made hoseok chuckle, his two hands releasing your wrists only to use one of them to seize your throat and push you back on your side of the bed, reversing your positions. “that’s my good girl,” he said, leaning down to kiss your salty cheeks, his hold moving to your jaw to clutch it tight as he grabbed the danger and flung it far from the two of you, the loud clanking of it hitting the floor making you flinch.

meeting his eyes again when he went back to gaze at you, hoseok smirked and captured your mouth urgently, his kiss strong and demanding, his teeth scraping along your lower lip as he groaned, the fingers settled on your jaw pushing you down, his free hand landing between your legs to cup your heat, and at that the moment he decided to pull away, you were gasping for air, the overwhelming emotions you were still experiencing from attempting to kill hoseok and the roughness that aroused you clouding your right sense of judgment further.

“so obedient to me. i love you the best like this.”

you sucked in a breath as he slid his hand upwards, leaving your cunt to graze his fingertips along your stomach and breasts.

“i’m going to let this go,” he whispered next, his other hand squeezing your cheeks to keep your head steady and facing him, “as respect to what we have and for proving my significance to you tonight.” he pecked your mouth once more, tender and loving. “but if you do this again—if you try to kill me again—” he squeezed you tighter, your teeth hurting the insides of your mouth at the compression— “i won’t hesitate to try and kill you myself too, my darling. is that understood?”

he unclasped his hand at the last syllable and you nodded rapidly, panting. “yes. yes, i understand.”

“great.” hoseok appeared calmer then, and you caught a glimpse of the manner in which his eyes softened a bit and he appreciatively stared at you. it wasn’t long before he decided to go back to his usual spot, laying down comfortably as if nothing extraordinary just happened.

you looked at him and he glanced at you, raising an eyebrow.

“aren’t you going to make up for what you did?”

your heart was racing and you were physically feeling feeble in his presence due to what took place. however, you didn’t waste time diving towards him, kissing him, and apologizing just because you were unsure of how to react still. if there was one thing you were certain though—it was that hoseok cared for you too, because if he didn’t, he would have used the blade meant to kill him to execute you instead.

after all, this sinful king was not known to give second chances to others. especially not to people who endanger his life.

note. this was supposed to be for namjoon but my hoseok biased brain sAID NO SHDSHDJ also,, i was inspired to write this after watching black widow (forgot what scene was it that prompted me though lmao)

THANK YOU FOR READING & FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED ! ♡(ˆ‿ˆԅ)

syntax error.

synopsis: › there’s an obvious difference between being solely fuck buddies and fuck buddies who are slowly getting emotionally attached to one another. unfortunately for you and jimin, it seems like you’re falling in the second category. so, what’s the solution to not be in that kind set-up anymore? you stop being friends with benefits, of course. and for jimin, that means you don’t see each other for sex anymore. you actually move forward and date for real.

pairing: jimin x reader

word count: 7.1k

rating: 18+

content: fluff | smut | friends with benefits au | established relationship au | college au | romcom-ish | this is just a very light fic tbh, kinda feels like pwp or fluff without plot sjdjsk | yn and jimin are just head over heels for each other | we’re highlighting the beauty of ✨ communication ✨

warning/s: swearing | sexual jokes & banters | explicit sexual content| dirty talk | fingering | finger sucking | hand job | oral (f. receiving) | protected sex | vanilla sex

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everything i brew, i brew it for you

⤷ 1.2k follower event request: Familiar!Seokjin x Witch!Reader + “I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave.” + Fluff/Angst ⤷ @softescapism​ said: seokjin x reader or OT7 x reader + prompt C8 + witch/familiar, fluff, sfw (hi! could you write a drabble/scenario/short fic for the follower event based on this, please? 💓) ⤷ word count: 2.1k ⤷ a/n: this is a little angsty in the beginning, but the ending is all fluff! i hope you like it!!

“There you are!” You grumble, snatching up a vial from the back of your cabinet. The little thing is covered with dust, the label yellowed with age and barely clinging on to the glass. But even then, there’s no mistaking the content. The shimmering pink powder inside makes you stomach flip uneasily, but you know it has to be done. You uncap the bottle before you can talk yourself out of it, carefully sprinkling the powder counter-clockwise into the boiling concoction in your pot. You can’t help but frown as it slowly turns from clear to bright pink, the stark colour mocking you as you throw in a pair of four leaf clovers with a little more force than necessary. The kitchen is quiet aside from the bubbling brew and the rhythmic tapping of your impatient fingers against the counter, your eyes resting nervously on the dark garden outside your window. You promised Seokjin years ago that you would never make this particular potion again, but you’ve run out of options.

You love being a potions witch, but truth be told, it’s probably the worst financial decision you could have made. All witches have to choose their niche the day they turn eighteen, and you, driven by the long list of potions witches in your ancestry, wanted to follow in their footsteps. What you didn’t account for however, is just how drastically the times have changed. Larger covens have started selling their potions online, making them in big batches to cut down on the cost and shipping them all across the country. There’s no longer a need for a town to have their own potions witch, not when you can get them delivered to your doorstep for a cheaper price. The mass produced potions are definitely not as potent as a singularly brewed ones, but it seems people care more about price than efficiency these days. Well, at least most people don’t care. And considering business has been dwindling so alarmingly fast over the last four months that you’re barely scraping by, there’s not a chance that you can lower your prices anymore than you already have.

You shake your head, trying your best to ignore the tendrils of guilt wrapping around your chest. As long as your familiar doesn’t find out about this order, there will be nothing for him to worry about. That’s why you’re hunkered over the stove in the first place; desperately hoping that it will be done in time before he comes home. Tonight is Seokjin’s monthly familiar night with Hoseok and Namjoon, and the only window of alone time you have to make something like this. You murmur a quick incantation under your breath as you give the potion one last stir, watching as the pink brew slowly darkens to red. The sickly sweet smell that whiffs up from the cauldron almost makes you gag, but at least it tells you that the potion is almost complete.

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I don't know why, but I absolutely love Yandere!Joon.

He's such a manipulative asshole, but god, he was so well written. I feel for MC.

The feelings, the characters, everything is so well written, on par with every other piece you've written!

Deviant ⫸KNJ

⫸pairing: Namjoon x reader featuring OT6

⫸genre: Yandere, smut, angst 18+ E

⫸w.c: 15.4 k

⫸summary: Jealousy can  be a powerful thing, and when Namjoon feels threatened by your behavior, he makes sure to  trap you in his web of seduction and charm–with nowhere left to go but deeper.

⫸warnings: Explicit, yandere, controlling, manipulation, aggression, dub-con sexual intercourse, rough touching, rough sex, pussy slapping, finger gagging, shaming, dirty talk, possessiveness, Namjoon finger fucks oc aggressively, masturbation, bleeding, dub-con taking of virginity, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, degradation, gaslighting, forced orgasms, obsessive behavior, stalking, panty sniffing, use of panties in a degrading manner, painful first time, ripping of clothes, impreg kink, belly bulge kink, car sex, sorta voyeurism, Namjoon spits his drink into ocs mouth because why not, praise kink, bruising, biting, oral, DOM!Namjoon, unprotected sex 

⫸a/n: Thanks to the amazing @chimoona​ for writing this with me. It was an honor! Go check out her content! It’s amazing! This fic goes out the my true mvp, the one that’s been there since I had about 300 followers or so, and who never left my side. She’s supported my content since day one and now I am honored to call her my friend. It seems fitting to close out with her as the recipient of my last fic @rmsbicycle​. Here’s one of the first posts I made about her. Thanks to her I stuck around. I love you <3.

🚨READ THE WARNINGS! THEY ARE THERE FOR A REASON!🚨

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I've been out of commission for a bit. Family life, ya know?

Finding that Only You is now out to part 10? I gasped.

In fact, I gasped and kept talking to myself throughout the whole chapter!

It was morbid, and there was so much satisfaction when things were pieced together. I'm wondering how much of what Tae told Noona was the truth, and how much was him stretching the truth?

I'll admit, I felt like Noona while she was thinking about Yori; happy and disgusted with myself.

I loved the cliffhanger, and cant wait to see where this goes!

Only You (10)

Word Count: 11,267 // [SPOILER IN WARNINGS] angst (mention of double homicide, gore/blood, miscarriage, mistreatment of a corpse, panic attack, meltdown, blackmail, gun, abuse), toxic relationship, manipulation

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

A/N: Thank you for waiting so long! Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter if you want to. Enjoy! - 🐰

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