Jungkook Is Your Own Personal Weighted Blanket. His Favorite Cuddling Position Is On Top Of You With

Jungkook is your own personal weighted blanket. His favorite cuddling position is on top of you with his head on your chest and arms around your waist. Chills will run down his spine when you decide to play with his hair. Its his own personal heaven to be wrapped in your arms and perfume.

Yoongi isn't big on cuddling. But he will never say no. His favorite is sitting next to each other, your head on his shoulder and hand in his. Maybe a leg thrown over his lap as you watch a movie together. He'll be the first to pull a blanket over the two of you.

Namjoon loves you in his lap. Your legs in his lap and head under his chin. One hand is around your waist as he reads or works on something and you do your thing. His fingers drumming beats against your side or moving up and down your skin. He loves you close and just wants to hold you.

Jimin loves to hold you on his chest. While Jungkook loves laying on you, Jimin wants you to lay on him. He wants your head on his chest and leg over his hip. He is shameless enough to physically move you so that you are on top of him if you aren't already. He just wants to hold you close to him always.

Hoseok loves when you put your head in his lap. He loves to play with your hair. Run his fingers through the strands, maybe braid it if you let him. He will brush it back from your face so he can place a kiss to your temple. He honestly spends more time focusing on you and your features than the show that you had put on for you two to watch together.

Taehyung is not happy unless you are completely tangled up in each other as you cuddle. He wants to be completely engulfed in the very essence that makes up you when you're in each others arms. He'll make your legs tangled together, bring you flush to him, hands playing with yours. He's also one to bury his head in your hair just to smell your shampoo and to fully cement that you're there with him.

Jin is similar to Yoongi. He likes you held to his side. His arm will almost always be around your waist or shoulders. His head will lean against yours and he will pull both legs into his lap. He also loves when you sit between your legs and let him play with your hair. Let him brush it and braid it. He will put it in crazy styles and ponytails, but he will always take the time to take it out and brush out the tangles that he caused from the styles.

just sit pretty | jjk & myg

synopsis: jungkook's hands are wandering all over your body while yoongi is asleep on your couch. can you fulfill your desires without waking him up?

p: jungkook x reader x yoongi

wc: 4.1k of gratuitous smut

genre/rating/au: 18+ | threesome, est. rel. au (jjk) | smut, slight crack

warnings: *cracks knuckles* okay, here we go: pwp, reverse cowgirl, idk if this counts as public sex but it’s in front of a sleeping person, exhibitionism, alcohol mention, breast play, cockwarming, unprotected sex, dry humping, dirty talk (jk is kinda mean), thigh job, pussy slapping, name calling :), orgasm delay, fingering, oral (m receiving), clothed sex, hair pulling, throat fucking, handjob, face slapping, breath play (asphixiation), tit slapping, messy sex, there’s a lot of spit?, hand kink, caught having sex... i think that's it

a/n: uhh... happy new years! merry christmas! surprise! to all my yoonkook whores out there, this is my extremely belated chrimbo present to you.

posted: jan 8th, 2022

m. list | ao3

There's really nothing better than cuddling up with your boyfriend while it's heavily snowing outside.

You’re currently wrapped up under the weight of a large white blanket, with your head tucked neatly under Jungkook’s chin as the two of you watch a documentary, the soft glow of the TV washing the room with whites and golds. Your eyelids are heavy, sleep whispering in your ear as you feel both your heartbeats melting into one.

It would have been a picturesque scene, romantic even, if it weren't for the fact that there's a certain older man that's taking all the space on your couch, banishing you and Jungkook to the small recliner in the corner.

For some reason unknown to you, Yoongi insisted on staying over at you and your boyfriend’s shared apartment despite living only a few more minutes down the road. And although you tried sending signals to Jungkook that you don’t want Yoongi in your apartment, your tender-hearted boyfriend doesn’t have the heart to deny the elder's request.

All things considered, the closeness isn’t so bad. The combination of the smell of Jungkook’s aftershave and his long fingers drawing absentminded shapes on your thighs has you sighing contently into his shoulder. Coupled with the large amount of boozy eggnog you consumed at Hoseok’s new year's party, you’re positive you’re slipping towards the best sleep of your life; feeling safe, warm, and secure in his arms.

That is until Jungkook’s hand creeps closer towards the hem of your shorts; the baggy ones you stole from his wardrobe that provides ample space for his large hand to slip into the pant leg. You look up to see if it's a mistake, your heart thrumming a bit quicker in hopes that it isn't. Jungkook stares straight ahead, barely glancing down at you, and you scoot closer to place a small kiss on his neck.

But then he does it again.

This time, when your eyes slide over to his face, Jungkook can't hide the small, mischievous smile. You're about to say something when he silences you with a glance. He juts his chin to the TV, a silent prompt for you to keep your eyes straight ahead.

Even though you're prepared for the next contact, it's hard to keep your moans to yourself when he drags his knuckle over your clothed slit. His finger goes up and down; from your clit to your entrance, and back again. Your body responds to his touch; your spine locking in place as the world blurs around you.

"Jungkook," you whimper faintly.

You spot the tongue prodding on the side of his cheek as his hand stills, head whipping towards the couch.

You follow his gaze to find that Yoongi's still asleep.

Jungkook adjusts your seating so that your back lies flushed against his chest. He dips his head to nip at the shell of your ear before whispering, “Shhh. We don’t want to wake our guest up. Try to be quiet, yeah?”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you nod.

Jungkook lifts the hem of your shirt and pulls the cups of your bra down. He squeezes your tits together as his thumbs circle and roll your hardening nipples. His lips make their way to your neck, just at the base of your hairline, where they attach themselves on the tender skin. Your mind is set aflame at the languid way he paws and fondles your breasts.

Your boyfriend is pretending to be completely oblivious to the torture he’s set. You have to choke back a groan when Jungkook twists your nipples between his forefinger and your thumb, the strike of electricity causing your body to shudder. He repeats the action a few more times, rolling, pinching, tugging, turning you more and more putty in his hands. Jungkook couldn’t care less about the way you squirm. He ignores the way your thighs press together or the way you’re biting back moan after moan as you're left completely at his mercy.

Every few seconds, your eyes trail to the sleeping figure to your right, and when you deem that Yoongi is still spending his time in dreamland, you allow yourself a small mewl of ecstasy.

“Can I make you cum with your tits, babe?” Jungkook whispers into your neck as he licks some of the marks he’s left behind.

“I don’t know… I don’t t-think so?” you respond. Yet when he tugs your nipples with such force that it has your back bending towards his palms, you feel lighting strike your spine, and for the first time that night, you moan loud enough that it causes Jungkook to remove his hand from under your shirt to clamp around your mouth.

After determining that Yoongi is still very much asleep, Jungkook forces his remaining hand underneath the waistband of your shorts and panties, discarding the garments onto the floor.

“What did I fucking say about being too loud, huh? Fucking Christ!” he growls as he thrusts two of his fingers inside until they hit the back of your throat.

Jungkook pinches your clit in punishment, and your back curves at the sharp pain. You can’t moan; can hardly breathe with his thick fingers crowding your mouth. He does it again, much harder than the last before slipping the tip of his pointer finger inside your hole, thrusting shallowly on purpose to miss the sensitive patch of nerves. Your hips try to chase after the lingering sensation, but his muscled forearm holds you in place, and you’re left squirming; helpless as he draws out your suffering.

“If only you listened to me earlier,” he tuts mockingly, giving the shell of your ear another harsh nip.

You whine in disappointment when Jungkook removes his finger from your cunt, but that earns you another harsh pinch, forcing you to swallow the curses that's threatening to bubble up. You're thrashing in his arms, frustrated at the lack of stimuli. You hear the muffled sound of a zipper opening, and Jungkook bucks his hips into your core as he slides his shorts down. Your eyes roll shut when he does it again.

The soft material of his boxers give you ample friction against your nub, and you grind together with his movements, soaking the fabric with your essence.

“That’s it, angel, just like that. Yeah,” Jungkook groans.

He begins to thrust his fingers into your mouth in a rhythm that matches the sway of your hips. The stimulation is driving you crazy, and the fact that Yoongi is right there and could wake up any second fills you with a carnal hunger that only makes you grind harder. Faster.

“Pretty angel. You wish it was my fat cock in your mouth, huh?” He pinches your tongue between his fingers. “Look at you slobbering over my hand… You're such a fucking mess.”

“J-Jungkook…” you whimper through your crowded mouth. “Empty…”

“What’s that, angel? What’s empty? Is it this cunt of yours?” Jungkook cups your core with his large hand, and begins to grind slow circles on your clit with the heel of his palm before tugging his cock out from its confines.

He taps the blunt head of his cock against your core. "Is this what you want?"

Despite having memorized it, you want nothing more than to see Jungkook’s thick length as he slides the head against your puffy lips. You slide your messy cunt over his shaft, and your head rolls back when the tip slips inside. That small burst of euphoria would explode in your brain, but Jungkook has other plans, and he always pulls out before you’re able to plunge him fully inside.

This little game that he’s playing is getting old, but with your mouth still full, you can’t make any requests aside from the short frustrated grunts of air as Jungkook, yet again, slips out from your pulsing walls.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Jungkook chuckles into your ear. “Aren’t you afraid that Yoongi might wake up?” Mercifully, he slips his fingers out of your mouth so you can speak.

“You started this,” you whine.

“And I can stop it too.”

After uttering those words, Jungkook stills completely. When you look back in dismay, he wears a cocky smile, his hands crossed in front of his clothed chest, with an eyebrow raised up in a challenge.

“Sup?” he asks mockingly with a tilt of his chin.

You say nothing as you stare into his eyes, annoyed that he's fucking with your right now. You squeeze your thighs together, surrounding his length with your warmth, but he doesn’t react; that shit-eating grin still plastered on his face.

Looks like you’re going to have to wipe that off yourself.

Keeping your eyes on him as best as you can, you prop your hands on the arms of the chair. Lifting your body slightly, you squeeze and unsqueeze your thighs around his length. The gasp from behind you is all you need to feel triumphant, your lips curving upwards into a victorious smirk. Yet it doesn’t last, because Jungkook, in his immeasurable strength, is able to hold you down and force your legs apart.

“Fine. Here’s the cock you fucking love so much.” He rasps the harsh words in your ear before he lifts you up by the thighs and buries his cock into you in one fluid motion.

Your body shudders at the sudden intrusion; your head lolling backwards onto his shoulder limply.

“So goddamn tight,” he hisses through his teeth. “Don't go passing out on me, you have a job to do.” Jungkook takes hold of your hand and brings it towards your clit. “Rub that pretty pussy for me until you cum.”

Underneath the blanket, you’re beginning to burn, its soft fabric scratchy against your sensitive skin. But you keep it on, afraid to expose your depravity to Yoongi, even if he’s still sound asleep. You glance towards the sleeping figure one more time while you move your fingers with uncertainty.

Is he really asleep? Can't he hear the soft pants that's spilling past your lips?

Jungkook pinches your nipples in warning. "Get on with it, angel."

At first, your fingers shake as you press ight circles on the sensitive nub, but you eventually find a good rhythm; your hips rocking into your palm.

“That’s it baby,” he groans, his eyes rolling back. “I can feel you tightening up for me. It feels so fucking good.”

His own hands return to your tits, although his touch this time is much gentler. When you’re close to the peak, Jungkook demands that you speed up, replacing your fingers with his own as he tips you by the hair so he can watch every hint of bliss on your face.

Jungkook opens his mouth to mimic your own quiet moans. “Oh shit, so tight for me. God, I want to bend you over and fuck you until you scream.” Then he hisses as your walls pulse around him before delivering a spank on your clit. “What the fuck? Is that what you want? Oh, you filthy fucking bitch. Does the thought of being watched turn you on? Fine then,” his hand leaves you to rip the blanket away from your burning figure, “try not to scream.”

With both hands under your thigh, Jungkook pulls you up so that only the tip of his cock remains inside of you before forcing you back down. “Oh, fuuuck!” he groans with careless abandon. He uses your body like a rag doll, moving your hips for you as he sinks repeatedly into your heat.

“Shit… Jungkook…” It’s impossible to keep your voice down with Jungkook spearing inside of you. Your brain has turned to mush – hyperfocusing on just the pleasure between your thighs.

You twist towards Jungkook, catching him on the lips between raspy moans. You’re hot, sweaty, and your thighs are starting to ache, but you continue to chase that bliss like a madwoman, grunting at every drag of him inside.

“I’m close,” you whisper into his mouth.

“Good, fuck, me too,” Jungkook husks. He catches your tongue between your lips and sucks at the tender muscle. "Cum with me, baby. I can't wait to fill you up."

You moan dutifully in his mouth, caught in the dizzying sensation—

“What the fuck?”

You yelp as you scramble away from Jungkook. You pull the blanket off the floor to cover yourself, even though you know it’s too late. Yoongi definitely saw everything, although right now, he seems to find your beige-coloured walls to be suddenly interesting.

The seconds seem to tick by slowly. Ugh. This was precisely why you didn’t want anyone to sleep over in your shared apartment. How the fuck are you going to get out of this mess?

Jungkook has the gall to look sheepish, flashing the older man a cute smile that shows off his dimples. “Sorry, I was horny, and she’s so soft, yknow?”

“You couldn’t have, I don’t know, moved to the bedroom?” Yoongi asks, appalled.

You’re about to apologize to save your modesty when Jungkook scoffs behind you, rolling his eyes. “Oh, come on! This is our apartment, we can fuck wherever and whenever we want.”

Yoongi drags his palm over his beet-red face, still refusing to look at the two of you. “That doesn’t mean the living room where there’s a fucking guest sleeping not even a foot away, asshole!”

“For the record, you’re the one intruding,” you huff.

“Yeah! So, it’s technically your fault,” Jungkook chimes in, and squeezes you against his chest. “Feel free to leave, by the way, the door is that way.”

The silence lingers. Yoongi’s fidgeting; he’s crossing and uncrossing his legs. It's then that you wonder why he hasn't gotten up to leave, but you quickly find your answer when your eyes fall past the black turtleneck that shows off his built chest, and onto his lap.

You're about to say something when Jungkook cuts you off, muttering curtly, “Ugh, whatever. If you don’t mind, I have to give my girlfriend a mindblowing orgasm. You can leave or you can join us.”

“Jungkook!” You and Yoongi shout in unison, but for very different reasons.

He rips the blanket away from you and continues his pace as though Yoongi didn’t just interrupt you and he isn’t now watching you fuck. You’re having a hard time feeling embarrassed, because it’s been replaced with relief. Now, you can moan however loud you want without the risk of waking up another human being.

You slide your eyes towards Yoongi, and to your surprise, you find his eyes already on you. His adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. You peel Jungkook’s hand away from your hip, and place his fingers in your mouth. Without breaking eye contact, you coat the digits with your spit, and you groan audibly when Jungkook pushes them further inside.

“Shit.” Yoongi swallows again, still full of hesitancy.

Jungkook responds with a breathy chuckle. “How about you replace my fingers? I don’t think my girl will be satisfied if you don’t join in on the fun.”

You moan in agreement, fluttering your eyelids for added effect.

With an audible groan, Yoongi stands from the couch. On his way to approach you, he strips himself off his pants and boxers, showing off his impressive length. Your mouth salivates at the thought of his cock in your mouth. He's thicker than Jungkook, but not as long. You want to lick the veins that decorate his shaft, all the way down to his balls. Yoongi's cock twitches as you ogle openly, but what comes out of his mouth is–

“A-Are you sure this is cool?”

“Fuck, Yoongi, just stick your dick in her already,” Jungkook groans.

You find this sort of hilarious – how the normally stoic Yoongi can be rendered so speechless. You know better than anyone that your boyfriend has a one-track mind. Right now, Jungkook is hardly paying attention to what's happening because he’s too busy chasing his own high. He couldn't care less whether Yoongi fucks you, but you secretly hope that the older man doesn't just pull up his pants and bail.

Your whine signifies to Jungkook that Yoongi isn't doing anything yet. With a click of his tongue in annoyance, he sits up and pries your mouth open by hooking his fingers into your cheeks, pulling your mouth apart. “Fucking hurry up! She's getting distracted with you just standing there.”

That's all the encouragement Yoongi needs to pull your head down so he can sink himself inside. Your lips are straining to enclose around his shaft, the sheer girth making it almost impossible for you to breathe.

“Okay, baby, you good to continue, right?” Jungkook asks, but he doesn’t wait for your response before he resumes his punishing pace.

Since Yoongi isn’t intent on moving, you grab him by the hips as you match your boyfriend’s rhythm. You take him the best that you could, plunging him past your pillowy lips and down your throat, and you’re rewarded with a loud groan of your name.

Finally, it seems like Yoongi’s letting go of his restraints. He grabs fistfuls of your hair as he pounds your throat.

“How does my favourite fuck toy feel?” Jungkook snickers as he pushes your head onto Yoongi's dick. "Her throat is god-sent, right?"

Yoongi’s completely lost in bliss – his mouth slightly open to pant softly. “Shit – so fucking good.”

“And my baby? Feeling good?” Jungkook asks you as he bends down to kiss your shoulder.

“Mmmh!” you moan around Yoongi’s length in affirmation.

“Gonna need you to be louder, sweetheart,” Jungkook clicks his tongue.

A sharp slap resounds in the air as Jungkook slaps your clit again, and this time, you keen louder, your eyes screwing shut when he soothes the sting with his fingers. “That’s beautiful. God, I can listen to you scream all day. Keep singing for us, angel.”

Without any prior warning, Yoongi strikes you across the cheek. Not hard enough that it hurts, but it does leave you stunned momentarily. “You’re getting distracted. Just because your boyfriend is fucking you, doesn’t mean you can forget who’s controlling your breathing.”

Was this Yoongi’s true colours all along? You can’t say you’re surprised, but it is welcomed for sure. His threat shoots straight down your core, causing you to gush out spurts of liquid onto the upholstery. You tear yourself away from Yoongi’s cock to groan; the long-overdue orgasm is about to crest over you. But the older man tightens his grip on your head to bring you back, and this time, his pretty hand wraps itself around your throat, his thumb pressing on your pulse point.

“You really can’t fucking listen to simple directions, huh? Don’t think you get to cum without us, bitch.” Yoongi growls.

Jungkook chuckles. “That’s what you get for being distracted, angel.” His large hands return to your tits, pinching and twisting the nipples before he delivers a firm slap on your mounds. “Oooh, yes, tighten up more for me… fuck.”

“Mmh!” you cry. You pop Yoongi’s cock out of your mouth to give your jaw a break, your hand replacing your mouth’s movements. With your eyes firmly on his, you lean forward to lick his balls, groaning at the taste that coats your tongue. You give each of them your undivided attention, popping one in your mouth to coat them in spit, all the while bouncing on Jungkook's cock.

“Taste good?” Yoongi chuckles while patting your head. It’s an endearing motion, and you happily nod along, a drunken smile plastered on your face. “Oh, I bet you taste good too. Stick your tongue out, angel.”

You straighten up as best you can, pushing the wet muscle past your lips. Yoongi bends down to grab your face with his large hand, tipping your chin up so he has better access to your face. He clamps his lips around your tongue and sucks, a heady groan sounding in the back of his throat.

“Oi, keep shaking your ass, baby. Don’t forget who’s making you cum tonight,” Jungkook grunts. He digs his fingers into your ass to remind you, as though it’s easy for you to forget the large cock that’s spearing inside of you.

You giggle, parting from Yoongi's lips to resume jacking him off, while you turn back to face your boyfriend. “Aww, don’t tell me you’re jealous over a little kiss. You know I only love you.” You punctuate your words by clenching your walls, earning you a loud, throaty moan from the raven-haired boy.

“You say that, but you look so happy when I fuck your throat. I would argue that you just love cocks,” Yoongi sneers, maneuvering you to face him again. You open your mouth obediently when the tip of his cock taps your lips. When he sinks in, he hisses, though there’s a satisfied smirk on his face when your eyes fill with tears. “God… if only you could see yourself right now.”

You hum in satisfaction at the compliment. It’s a miracle enough to have one very attractive man fucking you… but two? You’re in euphoria; tuned into your deepest, most carnal desires. You let both men use you to their satisfaction, and it isn’t long before both their thrusts become erratic, hips stuttering as their high reaches its peak.

Sweat slicks your back as you chase after your own elusive ember. Twice now you’ve gone to the brink of bliss, only to be pulled away. If it happens again, you’re not sure you’d stay sane. With determination, you slam your hips on Jungkook’s cock, and your hand comes up to help stroke Yoongi along until both men are left panting and groaning.

“Shiiit, fuck!” Jungkook swears, tightening his grip on your hips as he matches your rhythm. He snakes his hand in between your legs, rubbing your forgotten clit to aid you along.

“Eager to be painted in cum, aren’t you?” Yoongi’s breathless – his words coming out laboured as his hips stutter. “Fuck – ah… Swallow it all, baby. I wanna see you drink me in.”

Yoongi plunges deep into your throat, holding your head with his large hand as you choke around him. You can hardly breathe with your nose pressed into his dark curls, and you squeeze your eyes shut as the world spins due to the lack of oxygen.

“Fuck –“ he manages to utter as you’re forced to swallow his seed. When he finishes emptying himself inside of you, you open your mouth wide to show him your efforts.

"Good girl," Yoongi praises, pressing his lips on the tops of your head. "Now you can focus on getting your boyfriend to cum."

As Yoongi collapses on the floor, you bring your attention to Jungkook. You clench your walls so they constrict around him – milking him until he comes undone with a loud groan, body shaking as he paints your insides in white.

“Oh my god, baby, I’m cumming. I’m gonna fuck you full of my cum—ahhh…” Jungkook grunts, driving his cock deep into your pussy.

It's the edge you need to crumble into pleasure. Your body burns white hot; stars dancing across your vision. "C-Cumming!" you yelp, and you too, shiver with pleasure, spine locking up and toes curling while the waves slam against your battered body.

“Shit – Jungkook, Jungkook… fuck… no more. No more!” you wail when your boyfriend keeps thrusting inside. You’re sweaty and sore, used past the point where you can no longer feel your legs.

You collapse back onto Jungkook’s chest, your boyfriend whispering sweet nothings into your lips as he kisses you languidly. His softening cock slips out of you, bringing with it a glob of your mixed juices that drip onto his leg, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care, too focused on basking in the glow of an orgasm.

Yoongi’s faring no better. His legs can't seem to support his weight. So he lies sprawled on the floor, breathing hard with an arm draped over his eyes.

“I just want to say, this was not what I had in mind when I asked if I could crash at your place tonight,” Yoongi says as he huffs out a chuckle.

“To be fair,” you murmur, sitting up to grab a few tissues from the small table next to you. “Jungkook started it.”

“Yeah,” your boyfriend laughs as he wraps his arms around you. Jungkook pecks at your cheek before settling his head on your shoulder. “And you get to reap the benefits too. We did all the hard work while you sat there and looked pretty.”

You kiss Jungkook’s temple with a smile, just above his piercing. “How about next time I do all the work while you boys lie down?”

Yoongi perks up at this, sitting up to gape at you. “There’s a next time?”

Two pairs of eager eyes stare at you as you stand to stretch out the cramps from sitting too long. With a sly grin at the two of them, you wink, "Only if I get to 'just sit there and look pretty'."

moon's notes: i spent a total of 1 whole day writing this entire thing. so i'm slightly delirious right now. my inspiration? comes from the fact that i was thinking about cockwarming while watching a movie and all of a sudden yoongi came along???????? i don't know. i have no excuse to write this sordid fic full of filth, but i do hope you enjoyed reading it c:

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~ ♡

Yours (M)

Pairing~ professor!jungkook x student!reader

Warnings~ Pet names, slut kink, sir kink,creampies,bjs, praise and degradation kink,spanking,doggy style,age gap

A/N: Jungkook is 26 The reader is 18

You hated your biology professor more than you hated Mondays, but you couldn't deny that he was hot... His lectures were long and boring, but his rugged good looks always managed to hold your attention. Despite his unappealing teaching style, you found yourself looking forward to his class just to catch a glimpse of him. But you couldn't help but wonder if his attractiveness was the reason you were struggling to focus on the subject matter. His presence in the classroom made it difficult for you to concentrate on anything else, making it a constant internal battle between your attraction and academic performance. You found yourself daydreaming about him even when you were supposed to be taking notes. That's what led you to be in his class after school and bend over his desk while he smacked your ass. "Sir," you moaned out as he let out a harsh slap. "I told you to count out loud,you slut" he growled, his voice sending shivers down your spine. The mixture of pain and pleasure was intoxicating, leaving you craving more of his attention and discipline. "T..ten," you moan out, feeling the sting of the slap linger on your skin. "Good girl," he praised, his hand coming down on your ass again. The thrill of the forbidden act and the control he exerted over you only fueled your desire for him further. "On your knees," he commanded, his voice firm and authoritative. You obeyed without hesitation, eager to please him and submit to his dominance. You hastily took him into your mouth, feeling his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided your movements. "Fuck, just like that slut," he groaned, his hips thrusting to meet your eager mouth. You looked up at him with a mix of desire and submission as you kept bobbing your head around his dick. His eyes darkened with lust as he watched you, his breaths becoming more ragged with each movement. You yelled a little in surprise as he suddenly pulled you up by your hair, his grip firm and possessive. "On your hands and knees, now," he commanded, his voice low and demanding. You complied without hesitation, feeling a rush of excitement at his dominant tone. He wasted no time entering you from behind, the force of his thrusts sending waves of pleasure through your body. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he claimed you completely. "Fuck, sir, harder!" you moaned as you begged for more. His movements became more intense, and his control over you was evident in every powerful thrust. You surrendered to his dominance, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being taken so thoroughly by him. As you reached the peak of ecstasy, he growled in your ear, "Who do you belong to?" "Y..you" you whispered breathlessly; your voice barely audible as you gave in completely to his dominance. His grip on your hips tightened as he continued to drive into you, his pace unrelenting. With each deep thrust, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of blissful release. Your body quivered with anticipation as he whispered, "Say it louder for me." "I belong to you," you gasped, your voice stronger this time as you finally surrendered completely to him. The intensity of his movements pushed you over the edge, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You collapsed on the desk, completely spent and satisfied, as he held you close, both of you basking in the afterglow of your shared passion. The room was filled with heavy breathing and the sound of your racing hearts, He slipped his dick out of you, our mixed relese flowing out of me, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he whispered, "You're mine." Your body tingled with the lingering sensation of his touch, a feeling of contentment washing over you as you lay in his arms. "Lets get you cleaned up"

𝑗𝑒𝑜𝑛 𝑗𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑘𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑓𝑖𝑐 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑠 𝑖𝑖.

sleepy jungkook by @onlyswan

go to town by @jeong-gukk

two for the show by @ki-yomii

theres no way by @redjoonie

not in the way you think by @jungkookstatts

puzzle by @kimvvantae

two point five by @bratkook

our not so secret secret by @thvhoe

WILD THOUGHTS by @sxtaep

just desserts by @aseaofyoongi

colour me in by @taegularities

practice by @chryblossomjjk

KISS ME MORE by @gimmethatagustd

oranger by @jeonqkooks

nobody by @whatifyoulivelikethat

just to study

sleepyhead

by @jkstompers

new perfume by @just4koo

the five year plan by @jknoah

it's fine for you to write stepbros!namjoon and jimin ? where the reader is the one that is begging them to fuck her, trying to seduce them and being bratty. then one day they'd throw it all up and fuck her brainless after seeing her topless in the pool on the backyard ... they're very mean and rough, as they should let's be fair ! u can add any other things u want, im fine with everything

if not it's all good ! love your work, pretty ^^

Light dubcon?: only at the start MC is teasing them by not cooperating

-

You didn’t understand why they didn’t give in.

You were attractive, had a nice body, and were so needy. Ever since that time you overheid Jimin having sex with a girl he brought home while he thought he was home alone, and you walking in on Namjoon showering that you were curious.

What would it be like to have sex with them?

But to your dismay, they declined the thought of having sex with you… no matter how many times you begged or gave them attitude.

One sunny day you decided to lay in your backyard, topless, with closed eyes.

You frowned, opening your eyes when the sun was blocked, Jimin and Namjoon were hovering over you.

“What do you want? You’re blocking the sun.” You huffed.

Namjoon looked at you, his eyes going up and down your body, before landing on your boobs.

“Why are you laying here topless? What if the neighbours see?” Jimin complained.

“Then what?” You shrugged.

Jimin grabbed your arm and forced you to stand up.

You stumbled into him, and he held your waist.

"Ugh, go away.” You huffed at them, going inside. The house was empty, so it was probably just the three of you.

Namjoon and Jimin were right behind you as you went upstairs, and you could feel their eyes on you.

Once you reached your room, you turned around to tell them off.

But they pushed you into your room, slamming the door shut, and pushing you onto your bed.

"We're done. I can't deal with your bratty attitude anymore." Namjoon huffed, unbuckling his belt and pants, pulling them down and taking his shirt off. "We're going to give you what you want."

You bit your lip, looking at Namjoon. “Are you? Are you really going to give me what I want?" You challenged.

“Use that mouth for something better than talking our ears off.” Jimin still had his sweatpants on, and he got onto the bed, forcing you onto your stomach. He grabbed your shorts, yanking them down along with your panties.

Shit, they really were going to fuck you, huh?

You smirked to yourself, knowing they couldn’t resist you.

But you didn't have time to be smug about it because they were so damn horny, and they couldn’t wait any longer. Jimin grabbed your hand and pushed it into his boxers while Namjoon was already completely naked. He stood in front of the bed and he grabbed hold of your hair, guiding his dick to your lips.

"Open." He instructed.

You did as you were told, and he slid his cock into your mouth. However, you didn’t do anything, you didn’t suck him off nor jerked Jimin off. You challenged them once again.

“Fuck, you just love to tease, don’t you? Come on, suck that cock like the slut I know you are.” Namjoon grabbed hold of the back of your head with both hands, before he bobbed your head back and forth.

You moaned as you took his dick into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat. You sucked him off, gagging occasionally as he didn't give you a second to breath.

"I bet she's fucking tight." Jimin commented.

"Yeah, she's gonna be." Namjoon agreed.

Jimin wrapped his fingers around yours and pumped your hand up and down his cock. He pulled your hand out and spat onto your hand.

"Mmph." You whimpered as Namjoon slammed his cock down your throat, and held it there for a few seconds before letting you go.

“Have you ever had two cocks inside that pussy of yours? Come on, let me see.” Namjoon flipped you onto your back.

“Maybe I had more than two, wouldn’t you want to know?” You smirked at him, teasing him.

Namjoon grabbed you by the jaw and forced your head to look at him.

"Do you think this is a game?" Namjoon growled.

"If it was, you'd lose." You challenged.

Jimin chuckled. "You really do have an attitude, huh?" He spread your legs apart.

"So? When are you going to answer my question?” Namjoon asked as Jimin brought a finger inside of you, and you flinched, as it caught you off guard.

Namjoon chuckled at your reaction.

"No.” You answered.

“You never had two cocks inside of you at the same time?” Jimin asked again, bringing in a second finger.

"N-No, I didn't." You mumbled, feeling yourself becoming wetter.

“Good, we will show you what that feels like.” Namjoon grabbed your chin and brought your face up, so you were looking up at him.

Jimin thrusted his fingers into you, going in and out. You let out a moan, and he smirked.

“Tell us you want it.” Namjoon ordered.

“Fuck off.” You spat at him.

Jimin brought in his thumb and began rubbing your clit in circles.

Namjoon’s fingers dug into your face as he shot a glare at you. "Fucking brat." Namjoon growled.

“I want it.” You finally said, feeling his grip tighten on your face.

"Want what?"

“Fuck me, both of you.”

Namjoon chuckled. "See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" He let go of your face and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You can ride me first."

You moved closer to him, and he grabbed hold of his dick. You positioned yourself on top of him, your feet resting on his thigh with your back against his chest.

"Put it in." He ordered. “Now.”

You listened to your stepbrother and you grabbed hold of his cock before you lowered yourself onto it, and let out a moan, feeling yourself stretch.

"Fuck, you're tight." He groaned.

"Yeah, I bet she's so tight." Jimin commented, scooting closer to the both of you.

You began to rock your hips back and forth, as Namjoon began sucking and biting on your neck. You felt a hand reach down and began playing with your clit.

"Fuck, J-Jimin." You whined.

Jimin leaned closer and smashed his lips against yours.

You kissed him back, as you kept rocking your hips against Namjoon.

Jimin's tongue slipped inside your mouth, and he kissed you deeper.

You let out a moan, feeling him play with your clit while his other hand traveled to your chest.

"Mmm, she's such a dirty slut." Namjoon chuckled against your skin.

You whimpered as Namjoon's grip tightened around your waist, and he thrusted his cock harder inside of you.

“Come on, bounce on that dick before I make you.” Namjoon ordered.

You nodded and obeyed him, raising yourself slightly before bringing yourself back down. You bounced yourself, feeling his cock deep inside of you.

Jimin pulled away from the kiss, and he looked at you, admiring your body.

Namjoon smacked your ass, and you flinched.

"Come on, ride my fucking dick." He ordered.

"I am, I'm trying." You said, feeling yourself become exhausted.

"You're trying, huh? Let me help." He grabbed hold of your hips and pushed you down, as he slammed his cock deep inside of you, hitting your g-spot.

"Ah! Fuck!" You cried out, digging your nails into his forearms.

"There you go, that's a good girl." Namjoon praised you, bringing his hands away from your hips, allowing you to keep moving.

"She's going to be a good fuck toy, huh, hyung?" Jimin commented.

"Oh, she definitely will be. That’s what she gets for that attitude. Do you think you deserve a second cock now?” Namjoon asked.

"Y-Yes, I do." You whined.

He smirked. "You have to earn it first." Namjoon laughed. “Ride me harder, this is the last time I am asking you. If you don’t listen, you get nothing."

You tried your best, bouncing as high as you could while dropping your body as hard as you could, you picked up the pace and went faster.

Namjoon grabbed your wrists, forcing your arms behind your back. He held them there as he thrusted his cock hard into you.

"You're such a fucking slut." He hummed.

"Hyung, she's being such a good girl for us." Jimin commented. “Looks like she has no attitude left. Just a desperate slut."

"Mhm, that's right." Namjoon agreed.

Namjoon stopped you from bouncing and instead he spread your legs apart. “Come on Jimin, I am sure she can handle two cocks.”

Jimin got right in front of you, and he poked his tip at your entrance. He slowly brought himself inside, stretching you even more.

"Shit, fuck. I-It's too much." You cried out.

"Shh. You'll be a good little slut, right? You can take two cocks." Namjoon reassured you.

"Fuck, hyung. She's so fucking tight. Mhm, she's so wet too."

Jimin leaned his head back as he brought his cock all the way inside.

"Mmph, f-fuck." You whimpered, feeling them both stretch you. “Fuck, fuck!”

Jimin grabbed your waist, as Namjoon let go of your arms. He moved his hand up and grabbed your throat.

"Come on, we haven't even fucked you yet." Namjoon taunted.

Jimin started to move his hips, bringing his cock in and out.

You let out a loud moan, and Namjoon smirked. "She's a fucking slut." He squeezed his hand around your throat.

Your mouth hung open as they both thrusted their cocks into you, going deeper each time. “Fuck!” You hissed, feeling their dicks work together.

"That's it, you like that don't you?" Jimin teased. “Being used like this?”

You couldn't talk, all you could do was whine.

"She's taking it so well, she loves being our little slut, huh?"

"Fuck, yeah, she does." Jimin panted.

"Look at her, her mind is so fucked right now. I don't think she can think straight." Namjoon smirked, watching the mess of a girl you were.

And you were. Your mind was so gone, your eyes were closed, and you were biting your lip, holding back any moans.

"Aww, she's trying to hold her moans back."

"Don't, I want to hear your moans." Namjoon ordered.

Jimin grabbed your ankles, pushing them to your head. "I think I can go a little deeper, right?" He chuckled, before bringing himself all the way in, slamming his cock inside of you.

You cried out, "Ah! Fuck!" You let the moans fall from your lips, and they didn't stop.

"That's it, good fucking girl. Finally using that voice for something good.” Namjoon gripped onto your thighs.

"We're going to use her every day." Namjoon added.

"We are, she'll be our personal little slut. We'll fuck her anytime, and anywhere we want." Jimin licked his lips.

"She wants it, look how needy she is." Namjoon commented. “Do you feel how hard that pussy is squeezing around our cock?”

Jimin smirked. "Yeah, I can feel it."

"Come on, let's fill her up with our cum. I'm sure she wants it."

Jimin picked up his pace, and so did Namjoon. You let out a scream at the way both cooks were started to drill into you, at which Namjoon covered your mouth with his hand, and your muffled cries and moans were muffled and the only sounds you could hear were their out of breath groans and the slapping of skin.

"You're so fucking wet. Have you ever been fucked this good?" You werent sure who of the two said this, but wouldn't be able to answer, not with the way they were fucking you.

They both picked up the pace, slamming into you at a fast and brutal speed. They weren't letting you breathe.

Then, you weren’t able to hold it in any longer, and your orgasm took over your body, making you cry out and moan, while your pussy squirted around their dicks.

"Shit, she's so fucking messy." Jimin laughed.

You weren’t even sure how long they continued to fuck you or how many more times you came, and by the time they both filled you up, and your holes were leaking with cum, you were a complete mess.

Namjoon laid you down onto the bed, and the two of them left you in your room. You were too exhausted to move, and they were just so good at fucking you. You weren’t sure how, but you managed to clean yourself up, and fell asleep.