The Dialogue - Tumblr Posts
Buttons | ARMAGEDDON EVENT
Request: Wrath | Jeong Yunho (ATEEZ) by anonđ! song!
warnings: MDNI18+, fem!reader, public sex, mean!yunho, pussy play, pussy slapping, nipple play (brief), PIV, cumming inside, no protection, ruined orgasm, squirting, reader is a menace, super slight, gagging
2.4k words



The best part about Yunhoâs anger is that heâs never destructive.Â
He never yells. He never breaks things or makes a hole in the wall heâll have to plaster later. It took what felt like centuries to control that sickening desire to harm when his top blew off. Yunho knows he struggles with keeping his cool in the heat of the moment, but at least he tries and tries until he succeeds.
Heâs trying to control that anger now. Your manicured fingers feel over the crotch of his slacks repeatedly with that mischievous look in your eyes that only pisses him off more.
âI told you to stop that already.â Yunho isnât looking to pick a fight at the movie preview. He was invited to watch a showing with a plus one, his lovely girlfriend. Thatâs the last thing you are, however, as you keep pestering him.
âStop what? Canât I touch my boyfriend?â Those glossy lips twist into a knowing smile. Yunho briefly looks down at the hand and forces his head back to the big screen. âYouâre doing more than touching, you know that.â
Neither of you can speak that loudly considering the movie had already started and other invitees have been watching dutifully.Â
But you only hum, in agreement or disagreement, Yunho doesnât know. All he can feel is your hand rubbing over his thigh to find where he might have hidden his cock. It doesnât take long in the dark, especially when heâs sitting down which causes him to bulge.
He shoots you a glare. The pretty vein sticks from his neck as if heâs keeping himself from speaking too loudly. But you only stare back in challenge when you grope his cock. Itâs warm even through the fabric. You cross your legs tightly and let out a tiny sound.
Shit. You look good. It was your idea to match tonight and you decided to bring out your finest black dress. It makes your boobs squish for extra cleavage that even Yunho had a hard time looking away from. Now itâs all he sees as he peers down on you, switching between your breasts and smooth thighs that continuously rub together.Â
His jaw ticks.
âBabe,â he leans down, burying his nose in your hair and getting a whiff of your rose-scented strands. âYouâre pissing me off.â
But like a child who finds joy in pulling a cat's tail, you grip him harder. âI am? Why? Do you want me to blow you instead?â
You have to keep in your laughter at his reddening cheeks. âI donât mind getting down and dirty in the theaters. Nothing we havenât done before.â
âWhen we were high schoolers,â Yunho pulls away from your alluring scent to look into your seductive eyes. âWeâre adults now. Act like one.â
You roll your eyes. If he truly meant that, he would have slapped your hand away the moment you began to feel him up. Instead, Yunho widens his legs and keeps still while you make him hard. Itâs not as easy considering itâs a horror movie playing in the background, but your persistence pays off when you feel him throb.
âAt least someoneâs happy to see me,â you whisper. Itâs pure enjoyment you feel when his cock finally strains against the confines of his pants. When you could just barely make out the outline of his head from the dim light.Â
You use your thumb to run over the tip, over and over until Yunhoâs breath gets caught in his throat and his hips instinctively raise off his seat.
As quickly as he feels pleasure, he feels infuriation. Something in his honey eyes snaps. You nearly yelp when he stands, pulling you along with him in haste and you donât have time to grab your purse.Â
âYunho!â You try to yell with your breath. âI almost knocked over the popcorn!â
He doesnât say anything. Canât when he's bubbling underneath the surface and his cock painfully aches against his boxers. You embarrassingly smile at the people in the theaters, giving a polite âsorryâ and âexcuse usâ while Yunho aims for the exit.
You stumble over your heels and you swear they threaten to snap under your feet.
Wooyoung, a colleague of your boyfriendâs, gives you a weary look as if to say âyou good?â Yunho doesnât pause to let you tell him that yes, you are all right.Â
You just probably wonât be walking for the next few days.Â
The halls of the movie theaters are much brighter, but just as quiet as inside. Itâs now that you can talk freely. âYou canât just drag me outta the theaters right in the middle of the movie!â
He passes the main bathrooms, heading for the ones that are nearly abandoned way in the back of the building.Â
âBut you can be a slut in the theaters. Is that right?â He turns to spare you a look full of annoyance, arousal, and everything in between. âIâll give you what you want if it means you can be decent in public.â
Yunho yanks the door open to the menâs restroom. He doesnât bother checking to see if anyone occupies the stall as he drags you in, capturing you between the sink and his arms.Â
Your dress had ridden up from walking so quickly. Yunho doesnât allow you to fix yourself before he spins you around, facing your reflection. Itâs him you focus on in the mirror though. His heaving chest and the redness of his neck only accentuate the veins there. He stares at the exposed part of your ass and wordlessly pulls the material higher until it bunches around your waist.
You jump, but arch your back to give Yunho a good look at your clothed cunt.Â
âWhat if someone walks in?â âOh well.â
That makes you clench with something you think isnât fear. âI donât think this is a good idea. If you get caught-â But a slap to your ass shuts you up. Itâs a yelp that comes out rather than the end of your sentence. You turn your head to see Yunhoâs heavy hands soothing your ass, then grab it in a warning.
âNow itâs a bad idea? You really are trying to get on my bad side, huh?â
That isnât true. Well, sorta. Thereâs just something about pushing Yunho to his limits that you love doing, which makes you get in trouble thatâs worth it in your eyes. Deep down, maybe you did want him to treat you like this. But you just canât stop yourself from pressing his buttons a little more.
You fake a pout. âI don't want someone walking in.â
You got him. He bares his teeth and reaches for his neck to undo his tie. It slaps against his chest before he finally wraps it around your lips. You cry out, tilting up as Yunho ties a knot to the back of your head. The silky cloth sits tightly between your lips, drool already beginning to seep from your mouth.
âThen this should shut you up.â
Putting his hands back on your ass, Yunho tugs your underwear down to your thighs. His fingers find your pussy before the cold air does and heâs pleasantly surprised to feel that you were already wet. The pads of his fingers rub circles on your clit.Â
The pleasure is immediate. You perch yourself on the counter and grind your hips in his hand, shamelessly muffling your moans into his tie. He lets you, despite his demeanor, and follows your movements. It only takes seconds for his palm to grow slick. He maintains his other hand on your ass to keep you moving.
You ooze with arousal, knowing that itâs Yunhoâs hand collecting it all. You would feel bad, but it makes your cunt slide against it so much easier. Heâs not applying enough pressure to make you cum, but itâs enough to make you desperate. To make your walls clench in hopes of being stuffed. You whine, looking at your lover in the mirror with spit seeping down your chin.
Even with his dark eyes, he laughs. The sound sends shivers through your body and you know his smile is far from genuine.
He pulls his hand from you, smiling wider when your hips wildly buck and your fingers aimlessly grasp for his. âNo! Nonono! Yunho!â
The smile on his face disappears. Itâs replaced with a stern look that makes you regret raising your voice. He whips you around, effortlessly planting your ass on the counter and ripping your underwear off until itâs nothing but a lump on the bathroom floor.Â
He pulls your thighs apart, staring at your core before he raises his hand and comes down on it.Â
You squeal. Your hips buck in the air as he comes down again, again, and again.
âWhoâ slap! âare youâ slap! âtalking to like that?â slap!slap!slap!Â
Strings of white cream connect to his hand every time he pulls away even for a second. It's hot pleasure thatâs on the brink of pain when your clit throbs under his touch. Your cunt spasms and convulses. The makeshift gag canât let you cry properly. All you can do is drooly apologize. Closing your legs isnât an option. It would only make things worse for you.
âShorry âm shorry!â You squeal again when his hand comes down, but he doesnât move it from your core. Yunho flicks his wrist rapidly so his palm rubs tortuously on your pussy. It takes everything in you to keep your thighs from snapping shut. You lean against the cold mirror and try to keep your jerking hips under control.Â
Something not quite like an orgasm, but not quite like normal arousal builds in your stomach. It's a stark contrast to the painful pleasure on your clit. Itâs warm, itâs sweet, and it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.Â
You realize what it is too late. The only warning you manage to give is a wide-eyed yelp as clear fluid shoots from your cunt right onto Yunhoâs fine tux.
It releases in floods. Making you embarrassingly moan and gasp for air as your stomach canât help but continuously squeeze the squirt out. Yunho stares in awe, still flicking his fingers across your clit to help get it all out.Â
âFuck!â You can feel your makeup ruining from your tears. âI dinnât- Yunâo I dinnât mean âo.â
Itâs not anger you see, but a pleased grin. As if soiling yourself was the only thing that could have made him feel better. With his wet hand, Yunho undoes his belt. He doesnât bother removing it from the loops as he tugs his slacks just low enough for him to pull his cock out from the slit on his boxers.
âYouâre fucking disgusting.â But Yunho is anything but repulsed. He runs his flared head over your messy clit, watching little droplets of your juice dribble into the counter and his cock. âI have to fuck you.â
You canât argue if you wanted to. The cloth between your lips is completely drenched with drool and your cunt is so sensitive that it can hardly feel Yunho tap his tip before finding your entrance.
Itâs too easy for him to push in. Thereâs no need to stretch or warm you up when his cock can reach the hilt in one go. You gasp at the pressure, your hazy eyes meeting his fired-up ones as he quickly finds a pace.
Each thrust earns a moan. Each moan earns a thrust. You grip onto his broad shoulders that easily cover your entire body as your body bounces. He groans, reaching for the top of your dress to spill your tits.
Theyâve been hard for what seems like hours. Your nipples beg for attention that Yunho happily gives. He leans his head down to suck on your bud, rolling his tongue around the hardness while keeping his hips pounding into yours.
You clench around him. Your back naturally arcs into his form as he tugs on your nipple. None of the sounds you make are pretty. Itâs all whines and gasps from the constant way he slams into you.Â
Yunho lets go of your nipple, pressing a last kiss to the one he neglected in apology before raising back up again.
Heâs going to cum. You can feel it in how his thrusts turn sloppy and his eyebrows scrunch in pleasure. His hands find your waist as he moans, screwing his eyes shut and throwing his head back.
Every pump resonants in the empty bathroom. You can feel his pelvis touching your clit with every thrust and you know youâre not too far from your own orgasm.Â
He looks down at you, deciding itâs your tits (and face) he wants to look at when he finishes. You think he might kiss you with how heâs begun to lean towards you, stopping just inches shy from your mouth.Â
Everything feels warm. Yunho reaches down a hand to play with your clit. You wrap your legs around his torso as your high approaches closer. Itâs Yunho who cums first. He finishes inside, ignoring how you canât pucker your lips or you canât beg for a kiss with how much youâre moaning and the tie in your mouth. Instead, Yunho spurts his cum deep in your pussy with a knowing smile. The blood vessels on his forehead sticking out with how much he pours into you.
Still, you cum with him. Your walls clamp around his cock as he rides out his high. He stops too soon though. Thereâs not a chance to come down from your orgasm as Yunho cruelly pulls out of your needy cunt, ignoring how it squeezes him to stay and finish what he started.Â
You cry against the gag, trying to keep your legs wrapped around his hips that he easily pries apart.
His cock shines with your arousal and cum, with the orgasm he ruined perfectly.
Yunho scoffs at your whining form, the crocodile tears heâs learned to not be affected by. âWhat? Donât tell me you thought I was gonna let you make more of a mess.â You were planning on begging when he finally untied the tie from your lips, but he shushes you with another slap on your cunt.
âYou just want to piss me off today, huh?â
So beautiful đ
Blunt-Forced Drama
It started innocently enough. In May, Potter invited their entire graduating class to a house-warming party at 12 Grimmauld.
Being the gracious guest he was, Draco arrived an hour late with a bottle of wine, two tins of pre-rolls, and a scented candle that claimed to be "woodsy".
Being the highly-distractible, schedule-free dynasty heir he also was, he arrived on a Tuesday evening. Four days after the party.
Potter shrugged and ushered him in, through the house to the patio. The chair cushions smelled like mildew, but neither of them cared. He lit the candle, then lit a joint off the candle by the time Draco realized they were alone, but that was alright. Preferable, even.
Potter was different away from people. Weirder. He was downright funny after half a bottle of wine, and peculiarly sober when he chased it with most of a joint.
"Did you ever wonder if matter stays still, and our consciousness just moves through it like fingers strumming a harp?"
"Stands to reason, Potty."
Draco, on the other hand, was borderline ridiculous, and moderately obsessed with implausible scenarios and how to handle them. When sober, he'd deny having a rampant anxiety disorder.
"What if my face just... fell right off. Right now. What would you do?"
"Suppose I'd pick it up," Potter said, taking a long swig from the bottle. "But I'd probably put it on my face, take a selfie, then wash it off and give it back to you."
Draco mumbled around the filter of a joint he had to look at with one eye to light. "Generous of you."
It became a regularity.
"Did I miss the party?" Draco would ask, libations raised in offering.
"I don't know. Did you?"
"I've never mourned the loss of a social function in my life, Potter."
The patio furniture paint started to flake off sometime in July, but that was alright. Potter left the candle out in the rain, and Draco made a note to himself to replace it with a candle that actually smelled like a thunderstorm.
"What if the stars all collapsed into black holes? Just... boom."
"Even the sun?"
"Well, except the sun."
"Probably wouldn't affect Earth for a few million years. But then you'd be named after nothing."
"True."
Harry extinguished a blunt on his tongue and rubbed the ash against the roof of his mouth.
"Universal ultimate goal..."
"Yeah?"
"...for everybody..."
"Mm hm."
"....is to become who you needed."
Draco's head lolled back over the chair, and he pretended to see the stars through the humid streetlight haze.
"Go on."
"I needed somebody to, like, save me, right?"
"Uh huh. Cupboard."
"So I became 'The Saviour'."
"So... I needed... a socialite burnout?"
Harry picked the cork apart with a thumbnail onto the scalloped glass table.
"Nah. You just... you see people. Cuz nobody ever saw you."
Draco frowned at the stars hiding behind the veil of light pollution. He took a breath to ask Harry what that meant, but Harry cut him off with a soft snore. Draco blew the candle out and went home.
Harry never minded a little rain, and Draco didn't mind the humidity.
Draco shook the lighter, flicked it, and drew a slow breath. "What if you lost all your money?"
"I'd be a librarian."
"Hm," Draco hummed around a joint. "That might be nice. Wonder what I'd do."
An animal chittered in a tree, and Harry unscrewed the cap on the bottle. "You'd make wands."
"I'd make great wands."
Harry liked tart wine and indica, and Draco liked the random shit that came out of Harry's mouth.
"I hope there's no afterlife," Harry muttered into the bottleneck. "Sounds exhausting."
Draco sprawled out on a chaise lounge that smelled like wet dirt, tried to blow a smoke ring, and failed miserably.
"I thought you already died."
Harry upended the bottle and caught the last few drops on his tongue.
"Could've been a hallucination."
"What if this is a hallucination?"
"You'd tell me."
"Cuz I see people."
"Yeah, but not like in that movie. You just, like, get people." Harry's chair scraped against the patio, and he flopped down on the damp cushions next to Draco. "What did you get Parkinson for her birthday?"
"Nothing. She only wants things she needs, and she didn't need anything."
"See? What did you get me for my birthday?"
Draco tapped ash onto the ground and stuck the blunt between Harry's lips. "That candle, but that was more for me."
"See? It's perfect."
Draco curled up against Harry and sighed. "What's perfect?"
"You got me the gift of you smelling the candle."
"Didn't even wrap it."
"I hate wrapping."
"Me, too."
Harry drew a breath through Draco's hair. "I like watching you smell the candle."
"Mm."
"It's supposed to rain soon."
Draco pressed numb teeth against his lips against Harry's shoulder.
"What if I just bit you?"
"I'd let you." Harry stubbed the blunt out on the patio.
"Maybe I will."
"Yeah?"
Harry dipped his chin and pressed his nose between Draco's eyebrows.
"Mm hm," Draco hummed against Harry's chin.
They smelled rain, then heard it, then felt the patter of it against their clothes. It dripped down Draco's hair.
Harry's bottom lip slid between Draco's teeth, and he sucked it in on a relieved gasp. The storm-scented candle sputtered out, and neither of them noticed.
Has there been a drawing of any of the events of The Man In The Moon Came Down Too Soon?? Either the events of the song, or Aragorn's reaction to "These are the guys? They're dancing on tables! Aren't they supposed to be incognito? That one just turned invisible. How did I let Gandalf talk me into this?"
Well, I do have this very very old drawing of Frodo dancing on the table, buuuutâŚ!

The entire internal monologue, in case youâre wondering:
These are the ones?? Thereâs no way. I mean they fit the description, and the name checks out, but no one whoâs talking as loud as they are could possiblyâoh gracious, whatâs happening now? Is he singing?? Heâs DANCING??? No, no, no, no, what part of âdonât call attention to yourselfâ is so hard to understâOH DEAR SWEET MERCIFUL ERU ILLUVATAR HELP US
SEND IN YOUR SUGGESTIONS!
soybean stew



navi
pairing: choi san x afab!reader
w.c.: 5.5k
tags: smut, fluff, so much fluff, and even more fluff, established relationship, reader is not gendered (afab), san is so in love, he's so in love!!!! and it's so fluffy!!! and he can cook, but he's a little clumsy, did I mention the fluff?
trudging back home after your final exam, wanting nothing but to sink into bed and sleep through the next three years, san welcomed you with a warm bath and a home-cooked meal. and even as the moon fell to make way for the morning rays, he continued to shower you with his never-ending love.
A/N: this has been a wip since april and I kinda abandoned it because uni was beating my ass,, buuut I figured it would be a great (belated) birthday fic for san!! (´ ξ ` )⥠and happy birthday to my favourite himbo ^^ happy reading! please consider reblogging/leaving feedback if you enjoy my work~ ><
nsfw & warnings under the cut - minors dni!! đ

warnings: beware!!! the fluff may be deadly, reader is not gendered (afab), morning sex, lovemaking, oral sex (f), fingering (f), unprotected sex (đđź), multiple orgasms (m), multiple creampies, overstimulation, praise, edging, orgasm denial (only for a bit), nicknames (sannie; love, darling, sweetheart, baby), very sappy, so many kisses, like.... a lot, san gets so desperate at one point... oh lord, so whiny too, and so in love :(

Your soaked sneakers slammed over the pavement, splashing into the puddles of rainwater showering the Earth. The umbrella you held onto for dear life did nothing to protect you from the downpour, your lower half left helpless to the droplets the wind pushed at it, darkening your jeans to match the overcast sky under which you were walking. The revision notes felt heavy in the bag slung over your shoulder, and you wanted nothing but to burn them and have a barbeque over the flame to celebrate the end of your semester.
Dragging your sore body through the streets and into the shelter of your apartment building, you found yourself out of breath by the time you arrived at your front door. Your arm felt like deadweight as you raised it to unlock your door with languid movements. You lugged your body through the entrance and into the joint living area and kitchen, eyes falling on the tall figure of Choi San, all broad shoulders and glowing skin, swaying his hips to the music playing from his phone, masking the jingle of your keys. A sudden rush of energy â though miniscule â pushed you towards the man, your arms snaking around his waist, his body jolting in your hold and the ladle in his hand rising in defense with a throaty scream.
âAh! (Y/n)- Fuck-â He slumped over the stove, the steam from the bubbling pot brushing over the smooth skin of his face. âYou scared me, sweetheart,â he laughed breathlessly.
You managed a half-hearted apology and a giggle as you pressed your head to his bicep to watch as tofu and an array of vegetables danced in the brownish broth, the pleasant aroma making your stomach rumble against Sanâs back. He laughed to himself, dropping the ladle into the pot and twisting his body to face you, his arms encircling your shoulders and bringing you closer to his body.
âThe jjigae needs a while longer to be ready,â he brushed his hand over the back of your head. âI shouldâve started cooking earlier, sorry.â
You leaned in to press a kiss to his pouty lips and shook your head, an easy smile stretching your mouth. It baffled you how you were barely conscious a few minutes ago, but upon laying your eyes on San, wrapping yourself up in his arms, inhaling the uniqueness of his scent â a blend of bergamot and sage, with a hint of baby powder â you felt revived, ready to conquer the world (even though a certain man with broad shoulders and a pretty smile would fight every entity that opposed you before you had the chance to lift a finger).
âI donât mind waiting,â you pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth before leaning away to admire the stupid smile on his face, his eyes glowing with unrivaled adoration.
âHow about I run you a bath, hm? Dinner should be done by the time you finish.â His fingers rubbed small, warming circles over the damp material of the coat you didnât bother shrug off upon entry, too engrossed in greeting your boyfriend.
You nodded, an easy smile twisting the corners of your lips as you swayed gently in Sanâs arms. He took you in, from the way the wind had left your locks dishevelled to the dark circles under your weary eyes. San could see your mismatched socks through the slight gap separating your bodies. They werenât even similar coloursâproof of how exhausted you actually were. He cupped your jaw, and you felt the drag of the bandages wrapped around two of his fingers across your cheek. You grabbed his hand and held it in front of you, shooting a glare at him while he sheepishly looked to the side. Injuries were inevitable when you leave a man who canât even walk straight alone with a sharp knife. Though, scolding San for hurting himself while doing something so thoughtful was not within your capabilities. The guilt would eat at your insides for weeks until it left a hollow cavity brimming with rue and self-condemnation.
You brought the bandaged fingers to your lips, pressing tender kisses to the wounded skin. âThank you, Sannie,â you gently spoke. For everything you do for me, you silently added. And the smile on Sanâs face told you he understood.
He had every little detail about you engraved into his mind, from the blemishes decorating your skin to the way your eyes spoke to him when putting your thoughts into words proved to be a task too difficult. You sometimes felt like San knew you better than you did yourself, recognizing exactly what you need before you even had the chance to think about it. Â And whenever you felt self-conscious about not being as perceptive, San was quick to assure you that you did more than enough for him, that your smile alone could solve all his predicaments.
San led you to the bathroom, turning away from you as you began to strip. He sat at the edge of the bathtub, switching on the water and holding his hand under the tap until he deemed it warm enough, plugging the drain and getting up. Turning back around, Sanâs eyes fixed on your exposed skin while he blindly reached for the cabinet, tracing the swell of your breasts and the curvature of your waist, blinking slowly as he felt saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight of you before him.
And then he met your eyes, freezing in place when you raised a questioning eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat â a little louder than heâd intended â and hoped you wouldnât notice the bright red tinting his cheeks as he desperately scrambled to grab onto the handle, flinging the cabinet door open and effectively hiding his face behind the wood. You stifled a laugh, shoving your clothes into the laundry basket while San rummaged through the items stored underneath the sink, pulling out a rose-shaped bath bomb. He stood back up, smiling like an idiot when he turned to face you again, the previous timidity nowhere to be seen as he ogled your bare body with newfound confidence.
âYouâre insufferable,â you grimaced, shying away from his gaze.
He breathed out a laugh, the fondness glimmering in his eyes sending a wave of warmth through your body and straight to your heart, sensing as it swelled with adoration. You wondered what you might have done in a previous life that deemed you deserving of Choi Sanâa man who never failed to make you feel loved, cherished, wanted.
âStop it,â you whined when Sanâs eyes remained on you, though not moving off your face.
âItâs hard to look away from you, darling,â he swooned, putting his arms up to protect himself from the towel you threw his way, a soft chuckle echoing in the bathroom.
You waited for him to turn his back to you before allowing the smile youâd been holding back to sneak onto your face, tilting your head down to shield it from view. San didnât bother hiding his own, dimples sinking into his cheeks as he dropped the bath bomb into the tub, watching it fizz and leak a soft shade of pink into the water.
âLet me know if the waterâs too hot,â San spoke, making his way back to you.
He held your face in his hands, pressing his lips to your forehead before pulling away with an easy smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. You hummed a âthank you,â passing San to step into the water, jolting when a warm palm landed on your ass, the sound reverberating between the walls.
âYah!â You yelled and watched as the culprit escaped, leaving behind a trail of high-pitched giggles to keep you company.
You shook your head, a smile on your lips, and continued your descent into the warm bath. You relaxed your body, sighing contently when the water brushed the tip of your nose, feeling the weariness of this past month melt away into nothing.
--
San placed two bowls of rice down on the dining table beside a pair of empty ones, walking back to the stove to grab the bubbling pot of stew. The distant roar of the hairdryer stopped, and the bathroom door swung open down the hall. You walked out, a trail of steam following you as you made your way to the kitchen to watch San place the pot down on the wooden table. He straightened up and an easy smile took over his lips when his eyes landed on youâdressed in one of his hoodies, your cheeks flushed from the warm bath. You found yourself rushing into his open arms, burying your face into Sanâs chest and making a home in his cordial embrace. He nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo and pressing a kiss to your hair.
San placed another peck to your temple before pulling away and leading you to a chair, pulling it out, and waiting for you to sit down before pushing it back in. You shook your head and huffed out a laugh at the simple, yet endearing gestures engraved so deeply into Sanâs mannerisms. Youâd thought they wouldâve stopped after a couple months of dating, but here you were, quite a few years in and he remained the gentleman you had fallen in love with on a windy autumn afternoon.
San walked around the table and took the seat across from you, reaching for the ladle and pouring stew into one of the empty bowls, handing it to you before filling up his own. You smiled, inhaling the steam dancing above your bowl, exhaling with a deep, happy hum. You picked up your spoon, scooping up some of the rice and dipping it into the stew before bringing it to your mouth. You blew on it, aware of Sanâs eyes on you, gauging your reaction as you chewed on the food.
âBe honest,â he spoke, the smile on his lips carrying a hint of tension and anxiety.
You knew he cared the most about your opinion, and wanting nothing but to see the dimples sinking into his cheeks, you fluttered your eyes shut and swayed your body from side to side while humming exaggeratedly. âMmm! Sannie, this is the best meal Iâve ever had!â
You reached across the table to cover his hand with your palm, and he didnât waste time flipping it over and giving yours a squeeze. The smile stretching his lips nearly split his face open, a bright red colouring his cheeks and the tips of his ears. âItâs my mumâs recipe,â he scratched at his nape with his free hand.
You felt your chest well up with infatuation, fondness, love. Choi San occupied every inch of your being, and he was wholly unaware of it allâthe effect he had on you, how you melted into putty in hands whenever he smiled your way. The gentle touches, the sappy flirting. He drove you crazy at times, and you wondered when you became greedy, wanting to rob the dimpled man of every last drop of his love.
âWell, you did it justice. Itâs delicious,â you mirrored the smile he was giving you.
Your fingers remained entwined throughout dinner, even when San directed his spoon towards you, shoveling half of his own portion into your mouth despite your complaints. You tried doing the same, but for every spoon you pushed past his lips, he fed you two back until you were on the verge of exploding, swearing on every living family member you had that another bite would make your heart stop. San only laughed, extending his free arm to brush away the grain of rice stuck to the corner of your mouth, leaning back and sucking the food off his thumb with a coy smile.
You cleared your throat, ignoring the flash of warmth coursing through your body at the action. You were so adorable, San thought, getting up when you did, plastering himself to your back and waddling with you to the living room. You held onto his arms where they were crossed around your chest, stopping by the couch before unwinding your limbs and twisting around to face him. With his hands on your waist, San urged you closer until your arms wrapped around his neck, leaning down to press his mouth to yours.
The kiss was soft, your lips slotting perfectly over each other while you shared your body heat, your fingers tangling in the hair at Sanâs nape and lightly scratching at the skin. San parted from you only to place tender pecks over your pouted lips, trailing his own over the plushness and to your cheeks, nuzzling his nose against them before pulling away. He walked you backwards until the backs of your knees met the couch, dropping you gently onto the cushion. You found yourself wrapped in your favourite blanket before you could complain about San's hands not being on you, tucked into the corner of the couch with a movie playing on the TV. With a kiss to your forehead and a whispered âIâll be right back,â San walked back to the kitchen, giggling menacingly at your displeased grumbling.
Sanâs hips swayed while he loaded the dishwasher, his thoughts revolving around a certain individual impatiently waiting for him on the couch. An individual he was helplessly infatuated with, having built his future in his mind around themâaround their interests, their occupation, their preferred paint colour, their desired pet, whether heâd have to build a cot at some point in his life. He rinsed down the spoons while thinking back to the first time he saw youâsat on a bench under the yellowing tree, bright red and orange colouring the dying leaves. How lucky he was, San thought, to still be looked at the same way by the person he was in love with. All starry eyes and warm smiles, as though heâd built you a kingdom with nothing but his calloused hands.
Slipping off his bright pink rubber gloves, he made his way past the dining table and into the living area, his bare feet padding across the carpeted floor and stopping right in front of your sleeping figure. He mooned over your resting face for a few moments, the TV playing idly in the background as he studied the soft furrow of your eyebrows, the gentle grip you had on the corner of the blanket in which you were wrapped up in, the thin line of drool seeping from the corner of your mouth and onto the cushion under your head. San's fist tightened in resistance, the squeal tickling the base of his throat fighting to be let out as he barely held back the aggressive stomps. Everything about you drove him insane, even when you were doing something as simple as fulfilling a basic human need. He took you in for longer than heâd wish to confess, trailing his eyes over every inch of your face before snapping out of the trance heâd found himself in, a dribble of saliva leaving his own mouth while fondness brimmed in his chest.
He scooped you up in his arms, careful not to awaken you, small, light steps carrying him to your shared bedroom. Abruptly stopping in the middle of the hallway, San bit down on his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut when you nuzzled your face into his chest, resisting the urge to cover your face in kisses. His grip on you tightened and he willed his legs to move, taking a few â slightly hurried â strides through the hallway and into your room.
Delicately placing you under the covers, San untangled you from the fluffy blanket and threw it over the duvetâthe night grew cold now that winter was inching closer. Â He made a quick work of his clothes, throwing on a hoodie not strained with splotches of soybean paste before slipping into bed. His arm naturally slid under your head, his other arm snaking around your waist and tucking you into his chest, a satisfied exhale blowing out of your nose. Sleep found him fleetly, hints of rose mixing with your natural scent to surround him with familiar amenity, your body soft and pliant against his. Pressing his lips to your forehead, San wrapped himself around you and allowed the gentle tugs of slumber to shut his eyes, his last thoughts circling around the person in his arms, hoping the next day would come quickly, wanting nothing more but to drown them in his affection. Â

Streaks of gold filtered through the chiffon curtains, the sheer material futile against the aurous beams of light revering the start of the new day. Peeking your eyes open, you blinked away the contrasting brightness of your room, shadows splayed over the disordered sheets and a warm body plastered to your side. Sanâs head lay lower on the pillow, his exhales blowing over your neck, features softened in tranquility while his chest rose and fell with each breath. You wondered if he was dreaming of you.
Your shoulders felt light, your breathing easy, and the stress of assignments and exams gone with the moonless night, the new sun casting shadows over the face tucked into your neck. San had been so patient with you, planning dates around your busy schedule and racking up the phone bill as he pulled recipe after recipe from his mother every evening. While you were too immersed in reading articles, San made sure you didnât skip meals, that your water bottle was always full and sitting on the right side of your desk, that your shared home remained clean, that the knots in your shoulders never wound too tight, his delicate fingers working over your muscles as you clung to his torso at night. And though he never deprived you of his affection, you felt an untamable need for him, a wildfire burning in your gut as you took in his resting features.
You started off gentle, your lips feathering over Sanâs temple and down to his cheekbone, quickly growing frustrated at the continued evenness of his breath. So the needy, openmouthed kisses began, leaving a thin sheen of saliva in the shape of your lips reflecting the morning rays, your fingers brushing dark strands off his forehead to plant kisses there as well. You felt his nose twitch as you pecked down the bridge, the subtle pouting of his lips curling the corners of yours.
Your hands made their way under Sanâs sleep shirt, your nails dragging over his spine before splaying your palms out to feel the warmth of his skin. You threw your leg over his hip, shuffling closer to his body and trailing your lips down to his cupidâs bow. âSannie,â kiss, âwake up,â kiss.
He peeked an eye open to look at you, quickly shutting it as he stretched out his limbs, a deep groan echoing in his chest. He relaxed back in your arms, blinking his eyes in quick succession to peer at you with hints of his dream still playing in his head.
ââMorning,â he mumbled, the rasp in his voice only adding to your need for him, his knuckles running over the slope of your jawline.
You leaned down to kiss him again, a slow dancing of lips while the thrushes and blackbirds sang a melody on your windowsill. San was still waking up, you knew that, yet you couldnât help but nestle closer, holding his face and nuzzling your nose into the side of his as you deepened the kiss. It took him a few seconds to notice your restlessness, your hand slipping off his jaw to run over his sides, sliding under the hem of his shirt and squeezing at the flesh of his waist.
Shaking the last of his drowsiness away, he rolled your bodies sideways until he had you on your back, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and lust. San knew you better than you knew yourself, you remembered as he leaned over you to press a firm, closemouthed kiss to your lips, followed by a trail of tender pecks down your neck. âWhatâs got you so needy this early in the morning?â
You could feel his smile on your skin as he peppered your neck with kisses, dragging his teeth over your pulse point. âMissed you,â you breathed out, fingers curling around the material hugging his broad shoulders. âWant you.â
San hummed, low in his throat, âIâm here, Iâm all yours.â His hands coasted over your sides and down to your hips to hook his fingers into your waistband, slowly sliding off your bottoms and panties in one go, his lips pressing over every inch of newly exposed skin.
Your pants and his haphazardly thrown behind him, San ran both hands down your inner thighs to spread you open, slotting himself between your legs and leaning over you to dot kisses over your jawline and cheeks. âCan I taste you, my darling?â
The rough material of his boxers pressed against your mound, your vision blurring at the friction. âBut I want you,â you whined, sliding a hand down his back and resting it over his firm ass to pull him closer.
âJust for a little bit,â he kissed at your pouty lips, grinding his hips into you, the hard outline of his cock straining against the thin fabric. âPlease? âWanna feel you on my tongue.â
A shiver ran through you, and you nodded hesitantly, watching as San descended your body with a muttered âthank you.â
--
âJust for a little bitâ faded into the illuminated dust swimming in the air around you, your mind disconnecting from reality the moment Sanâs lips found your pussy. It felt like hours in a realm of ecstasy, hot arousal gushing out of you with every suck to your clit, your vision blurring when thick fingers breached your entrance. San lapped at your cunt like a starved man, his tongue flattening over your swollen nub while you desperately rolled your hips over his face, exhaling breathy moans as you neared your high for the nth time, only for him to anchor you down on the mattress with an arm over your lower belly, retracting his tongue to press tender kisses over and around your slit.
âNo, no,â you whined as your orgasm dwindled, tears pooling in your eyes and your hands tugging at his dark strands, attempting to push his face back onto you. His fingers curled inside you, pushing up into your g-spot to remind you of their presence, hips slowly rutting into the sheets under him. âSannie, please.â
He slipped out of you to trail soft kisses along the heated skin as he journeyed up your body, pressing his lips to the pout on yours before pulling away to take you inâall teary eyes and slick skin, gilded under the early rays. Strong arms enclosed around you, soft tufts of dark hair tickling the side of your neck as San dipped his head onto your shoulder. Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the familiar scent of your bodywash, a hint of your shampoo tickling his senses as he basked in your warmth. A muttered echo of his name broke him away from you, his lips parting off your skin to allow a string of curses exit, his leaking cock now burrowed between your folds, cockhead teasing over your clit. âAre you ready for me, love?â
Your frantic nodding and pleas brought a smile to his face, lowering himself over you again to gather you into his arms, his hand sliding between your bodies to align himself with your waiting cunt. Your hips jumped when his thick girth breached your entrance, your nails dragging down Sanâs spine at the gradual stretch. Feathery pecks turned into open-mouthed kisses over your face, Sanâs heavy breaths interrupted by the comforting gesture. He trailed his lips down your jaw to nuzzle his nose into the skin below your ear, his pants growing into shaky moans when his cock fully sheathed within you, the gentle squeeze of your walls around him shaking his body with violent shivers.
âPlease move,â you tried, rolling your hips in protest, and Sanâs hands scrambled to stop you.
âW-wait, fuck-â
His body convulsed atop yours, a gravelly grunt ripping through his chest as a familiar warmth spread through your lower belly. His cock twitched inside you, spurting pathetic ropes of cum while he curled in on himself, shuddering as his orgasm washed over him unexpectedly with repeated apologies on his tongue. Your hand smoothed over his back, rubbing soothing circled into his skin while he recovered, imagining the bright red coating the cheeks he was hiding from you.
âSan?â
He hummed, his voice small.
âCan you look at me?â
He shook his head, soft strands grazing over your skin at the motion.
âWhy not?â
He paused, and you could feel the warmth of his face on your shoulder, ââm embarrassed,â he mumbled.
Your palms cupped his heated cheeks, prying him off your skin and holding his head above you to look at him properly. Teary, half-lidded eyes stared back at you, flushed cheeks squished inwards and his lips pouted in chagrin. You guided his face down to yours, pressing comforting kisses over his eyebrow and temple, âno need to be embarrassed, love.â
He huffed out a breath, tilting his head to slot his lips over yours, leaving a chaste kiss on your mouth before wrapping his arms around you to bring you into his chest. His hips began rolling into yours before you could question it, a breathy moan blowing over Sanâs collarbone as his cock glided over your walls.
âMissed you so much,â he planted a kiss on the side of your neck, âcouldnât help it, âfelt so good,â he rambled into your skin.
You could feel his cock chubbing up inside you again, Sanâs soft grunts echoing in your ear as he pushed through the overstimulation. Languid grinding turned into pointed thrusts, rough palms running over the outside of your thighs and guiding them around his waist, waiting until your feet locked at the small of his back before readjusting his angle. With Sanâs body covering yours and his mouth on your neck, he aimed his cockhead at your g-spot with shallow drives into your sopping heat. He grazed his teeth over your pulse point, a shiver running through you as he littered an array of faint bruises over the column of your throat. In a couple hours, your skin would become a palette of blues and purples, and San would sheepishly scratch at his neck while you reprimanded him for his messy colouring.
Sanâs cock stilled inside you, moving only to glide the remainder of his length between your fluttering walls. âWhere did you go?â Of course heâd caught you zoning out. âI thought I'd get you all to myself now that you were done with exams,â the pout on his lips pulled at your heart strings.
Your fingers ran through his hair, and you leaned upward to peck at his lips, âyou have me, Sannie, Iâm all yours.â
San smiled, sliding a hand under you to cup the back of your head, catching your lips in a kiss laced with the thick essence of yearning and lustâas though he couldnât bare part with you ever again, not even to grab a glass of water. âMine, mine, mine,â he recited against your lips, moving down to pepper kisses over the bruises painting your skin. âGonna fuck you so full, sweetheart, âmake sure everyone knows youâre my sweet baby.â
Your hand reached down to his thigh, grazing the soft skin and trailing upward until your palm cupped his plump ass, urging his hips forward and into your cunt. âWant it, please, want you so bad.â
His lips found yours, parting to run his tongue over your cupidâs bow before planting soft, delicate kisses over the corners of your mouth. Your nails dug into the flesh of his ass, eyes rolling back as he pounded into you with boiling desperation. Utterances of âmissed youâ vibrated over your skin, your chests flush and nipple grazing over each other every time San bucked into you, his words broken-up by airy moans. Through the thick haze coating your brain, you recognized the tingle in your stomach warning you of your impending orgasm, Sanâs frantic hands touching every patch of skin available to him, his teeth nibbling on the skin of your collarbones while he fucked into you uncontrollably.
âGonna cum,â he breathed out, lifting his head to take you in with glassy eyes. âHngh! âMissed you so fucking much,â he pulled you into his chest, only to lean back two second later to admire your fucked-out expressionâstaring back at him with hooded eyes, pleasure soaring through your body and disrupting every thought, Sanâs relentless pace as he hammered his cock into your pulsating cunt barreling you closer to the edge. âSo perfect,â he pushed the damp hair off your forehead. âGonna fuck you full, darling, can I? âWanna give you all I have,â he babbled, slurring his words as tears welled up in his eyes, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.
âNghh! G-give it to me, Sannie,â you tightened your legs around him, pushing him further into you and clenched around him.
Sanâs hips stuttered, his steady rhythm replaced with erratic pounding, his cock filling you up before slipping out, only to thrust back into you without relent. The edging, Sanâs mouth on your clit, his fingers stuffed inside you, only to pull away every time you came close to an orgasm, and now, his cock pressing into you g-spot while his pelvis grinded over your sensitive nubâyou werenât sure which factor pushed you over the edge, except you found yourself tumbling down a verdant, sunlit hill, wildflowers and dandelions sweeping over your skin in your descent. Your vision blurred, the silhouette of a man brimming with adoration going in and out of focus, the soft melody of moans and echoes of your name reverberating in the back of your mind as your orgasm finally rushed through you, your nerves aflame and body jolting over the soiled sheets.
For what felt like hours, he guided you through your high. Leisurely grinds of his hips, rocking back and forth with his cock sheathed deep within you, even after ropes of white joined the previous load heâd fucked into you, your bodies spasming together as tinges of overstimulation mingled with pleasure. His eyes scanned your face, studying the subtle shifts in your features while his hands roamed your bodyâfrom the twitch of your eyebrow to the upward curl of your mouth; palms dipping into the contour of your waist, and curving over the slope of your hips, holding you delicately while you trembled in his arms. He slipped out of you at the first whimper leaving your lips, his muscles slackening as the shots of pleasurable pain subsided.
The mattress jumped, Sanâs body falling sideways into the space beside you, his arms instantly working on tugging you closer to him, inhaling the flowery scent of your shampoo while digging his fingers into the knots in your back.
Sanâs soft humming carried on until the sun found its locus in the cloudless sky, the rays sharp where they snuck through the gap in your curtains. You slipped in and out of consciousness, the warm body cradling you and the patterned rise and fall of its chest spreading a veil of tranquility over the quiet room. The peacefulness resided even as San pulled you out of bed and into the shower, washing off the sweat and grime with wandering hands and impish touches, high-pitched giggles and squeals echoing between the tiled walls.
It felt like dejaâvu, finding yourself curled up in a fluffy blanket on the couch, except this time, Sanâs firm body enveloped yours while you sipped on your coffee, feline eyes moving off the TV every time you brought the mug to your lips, watching their subtle pout as you swallowed down the steaming liquid. His gaze flitted lower, examining the splashes of purple and blue decorating your neck with a fondâand slightly cockyâsmile stretching his lips. Â
You remained entrapped within each otherâs warmth, the sunlight shifting hues every other hour, from a burning yellow to a warm orange, mixing with magenta and rose when the orb of light neared the horizon. Characters moved around on the large screen: Mulan, then Rapunzel, and now Ariel, the baritone of Sanâs voice harmonizing with the various ballads blasting through the speakers, your hearty giggles filling up the room when he slipped away from you to dance along with Sebastian to âUnder the Sea.â
Securing him back in your arms, you watched the rest of the movie in peace, humming the remaining songs and arguing who would get to be the purple mermaid next time you went swimming, the empty bowls of leftover jjigae resting idly on the coffee table, their ceramic reflecting the changing hues of the dying sun.
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now this is some damn good writing -- loved every bit of it
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youâve 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 hasnât 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!) chemistryâpeople have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny⌠until you canât stop thinking about it. đď¸
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. :)
Youâve 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 heâd written his grad school thesis on and what heâd 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 itâs closing in on Friday night and heâs got a dateâhow 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 arenât sure thatâs true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just⌠Namjoon. Heâs 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.
âThereâs another post about whether or not weâre dating,â you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.
sooo letâs be real here, we ALL think theyâre 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 heâd chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.
Itâs sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I donât even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) âł omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they arenât full on dating, but theyâve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so đĽđĽđĽ (+791) âł um how can namjoon be dating her when heâs already married to me đđ (+3) âł For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women canât just be friends. (-51)
âHow come they never talk about how hot you are?â
You can tell by the look on Namjoonâs face that he hadnât meant to say thatâor, if he did, he didnât mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. âCursed to be ugly and dumb,â you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says youâd 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. âYeah, I donât think so, lots of people havenât slept with me.â Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, âHey, all that stuffâdoes it bother you?â
âWhat do you mean?â you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.
âPeople thinking weâre together,â he clarifies.
You shrug. âI dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshareââ
âHello?â
âIâm just saying,â you retort, hands raised in self-defense. âThere really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.â Namjoon looks affronted, like he canât believe youâd stoop so low as to bring that up. âOr that you lost your virginity at fifteen.â
âWe have a relationship podcast,â he states simply. âThatâs kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.â
You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. âNo one said it wasnât, I just said you overshare. Which you do.â
âAnd thatâs why thereâs a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not weâre dating? Because I overshare?â
âYeah, exactly. Thatâs the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think theyâre your friend.â He glares. âDonât give me that look, you know Iâm right. Itâs bad enough youâve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? Itâs like youâre begging for trouble.â
Another comment he doesnât even realize heâs making: âI donât beg. For anything.â

To this day, youâre not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.
His reasoning had been simple: âYouâre my best friend and we donât agree on anything.â Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldnât entertain, and you⌠do not, to put it simply.
Youâre not a cold person. Your fuse isnât short. Youâre 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 Namjoonâs right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldnât be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.
Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcastâwhich Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with forceâhad picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, youâre 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 itâs a little more serious. Thatâs where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.
âWhatâs on the agenda today?â he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.
Ah, Jungkook.
You arenât 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 itâs his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all youâve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.
âIâm in a silly goofy mood,â comes Jungkookâs reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and thatâs 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.
Thatâs the thing about Namjoonâhe takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. Heâs all skill and determination and youâre color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you arenât 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 heâs trying to solve and fix things that arenât his responsibility to solve and fix.
So he takes it really seriously and you donât 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, âAre you ready?â and does one last equipment check before he launches into, âWelcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. Whatâs new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?â
Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. âI see you almost every single day,â you respond dryly. âBut for the sake of entertainment, Iâm thinking about getting a cat.â
âA cat?â Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.
Youâve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but youâve known him even longer.
Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person youâd 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 alsoâYoongi, allergic to cats.
So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, youâre intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners donât even know your real name, let alone that youâd gone through a breakup a year ago.
âWhat kind of cat?â he continues, like his entire world hasnât just been turned upside-down.
You shrug. âEh, I donât know. Probably one thatâs been in the shelter a long time, I guess. Iâm not too fussy, you know?â
âRight, a cat is a cat,â Namjoon says, thinking heâs done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. âWhat? Why are you giving me that look?â
âBecause thatâs a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. Youâve gotââ
âBut you just said youâre not fussy,â he interjects. âAnd I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you canât have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, itâd never workââ
âWhat does that mean? Why couldnât I have a cool cat?â
âHey, all you cool cats and kittens,â Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks heâs done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. âAnyway. Do you have pictures?â
âYeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.â
âThatâs cute.â
âMhm,â you agree, âbut Casserole is a kitten, and Iâm not sure Iâm ready for that kind of responsibility.â
âThey do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.â
âAnd thatâs how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it youâve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.â
âSick name.â
âNumber three, Toddler.â
âToddler?â
âNumber two, Flat.â
âJust Flat? Understandable.â
âAnd, finally, number one: Human Torch.â
âYoooo.â Namjoon laughs. âYou have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.â You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. âOkay, for our listenersâHuman Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I donât know what thatâs called.â
âTabby,â Jungkook chimes in.
âJungkook says heâs a tabby. Heâs cute. Adopt him.â
You return your phone to your pocket. âMaybe. I still think I want an older cat, but Iâll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?â
Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced theyâre 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 itâs a little embarrassing kind of way.
âNot really,â he answers. âIâve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.â
âItâs a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?â
âThree?â Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. âSince when are there three? I havenât even seen one or two.â
âOkay, first of all, the original is a classic and itâs a crime you havenât seen it.â
âAnd second of all?â
âThere is no second of all. Repeat point one.â
He snorts. âIâm not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howlâs Moving Castle.â
âSubbed or dubbed, though?â
âAre you trying to get me canceled?â
âAbsolutely.â
âI like both,â he chickens out. âNow, letâs stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.â
âTalking about cats is a waste of time?â
âIâno, weâve just got a lot on the agenda today.â
âLike what?â
âWell, thereâs lots to talk about on the celebrity frontââ
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 thatâs the case you know youâre in for a long evening. Youâve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.
But Namjoon loves it, so youâve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.
ââone should we start with?â
âWhatever you want,â you answer, because you havenât been paying a lick of attention and you arenât sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but heâs an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.
And even though you hadnât been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. âCool. Letâs start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarreââ
âWho?â
âWhat?â
âWho is Taryn Manning?â
Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkookâs arching an eyebrow at you. âAre you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.â
âThe Britney Spears movie?â
âYeah.â
âOh. Weird, okay. Continue.â
Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. âI 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 canât stand the manâs wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.â
âIâhuh, thought we werenât supposed to say that anymore. Alright.â
âBut wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quoteâand this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I canât stop thinking about it: âDonât you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.â Can youââ
âWhat? Namjoon, what in the fuckââ
âItâs crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.â
âNamjoon, this is a family show, you canât just talk about ass-eating unprompted.â
âNo itâs not.â
âWell, you still shouldnât talk about ass-eating unprompted. Itâs unbecoming.â
âYouâre unbecoming,â Namjoon fires back, because he canât help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. âSorry, that was out of line.â
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. âUnbecoming, like I said.â Namjoon scoffs. âAnyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?â
âYeah. Apparently it was her friendâs husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.â
âJesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.â
âIt is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.â
âI saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, soââ
âCan you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?â
âI donât know, Iâm not an astrology girlie. Thatâs why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?â
âWhatâs that?â
âYour sun, moon, and rising signs.â
âHow do I find that out?â
âUgh,â you intone, âdonât worry about it, Iâll do it myself. What time were you born?â
Namjoon rattles off a time.
You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoonâs date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then youâre staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also donât make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. âBad news: it says youâre a virgin.â
âVirgo,â Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. âI already knew that.â
You scroll a little further down the page. âYour moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, theyâve got you pegged: âThe greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or beliefâââ
âHaaa, thatâs notââ
âââYou 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.â Yeah, thatâs you.â
âThat could apply to anyone,â he argues. âThere are seven-billion people on this planet; Iâd imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.â
âHm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know youâre a Scorpio rising?â
âNo. Iâm sure youâre gonna tell me all about it, though.â
You smile. âCorrect. âPeople with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.â Is that true?â
âYeah, youâre the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.â He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if youâre being honest. âI guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.â
âThat was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess weâre allowed to have faith in humanity today.â
To your left, Jungkook scoffs.
âAlright,â Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, âfirst up weâve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, âHi, 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 handsâand then he showed up to get me in a â67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didnât use my name once. Iâm torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agaiâââ
âNo,â you interject.
âCan I finish?â
âYou donât have to. This guy sounds greasy.â
Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. âAnd why is that?â
âIgnoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didnât use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? Thatâs really disrespectful.â
âSome people are just pet name people,â Namjoon argues.
âWith absolute strangers, though? Itâs really giving the impression that he didnât even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.â
âI agree it sounds a bit misguided, butââ
Ignoring Namjoon, you say, âSorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.â
And, just like heâs done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, âIf 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 uncomfortableâif it didâand offer to pick him up for the next date. I donât think heâs completely destined for the garbage, yet.â
âYouâre just saying that because you donât have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. Thatâs probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?â
âThatâs a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, Iâll have you know.â
You groan. âOh my god.â

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 Iâm glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) âł just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) âł Imagine caring about something like this when theyâre getting a cat together đ (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.
Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea youâve ever had, and truth be told itâs 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.
Itâs justâ
Itâs a big commitment, and thereâs also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means youâre still Yoongiâs 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), heâs a lot like his father in a lot of ways.
Should I get a cat, you type out, and itâs only been in Yoongiâs inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture youâve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.
âAre you dying?â you ask, because Yoongi doesnât call you for much else.
And you already know what his response is going to be. âWeâre all dying.â
âLighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.â
Thereâs a split-second pause. âItâs nine p.m.â
âSure, but itâs before tomorrowâs noon, so it still counts.â
âWhatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.â
âYou going out of town again?â
âYeah. Shouldnât be long, though. A week at the most, five days if Iâm lucky.â
âThatâs fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeongâs busy?â
This pause is far, far longer. âNo,â comes Yoongiâs eventual response, but itâs slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. âHeâs, uh. Coming with me?â
Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. Youâve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. âThis is a fanfiction plot,â you accuse. âHot, 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.â
âIâthatâs notâmy apartment is not gaudy.â
âYes it is. Thereâs a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.â
âWeird bird?â he parrots. âItâs a swan.â
âI see youâre not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.â
âAm I on trial?â Yoongi retorts, and itâs 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 wonât ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and Iâd like for you to give me this.
So you lower your voice and soften the edges because itâs not really something to joke about, and you say, âNo, of course youâre not on trial,â and Yoongi knows what you mean. âAnd if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You canât lie for shit.â
Thereâs a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost donât catch it. âSend me pictures of the cats.â
Later on, once youâre freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de lâamour by Alain Badiou at Namjoonâs insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongiâ
Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: itâs a tie for me You: Okay well pick one đ 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 heâs 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 doesnât miss you anymore and heâs not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please donât drag me into this. Also I did not say âfuck offâ You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You shouldâve known something was going on with Jungkook, because itâd 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 thenâNamjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but youâve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like heâs doing now.
âIs this really necessary?â Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. Heâs already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. âItâs a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.â
Namjoon scoffs. âAre you saying this isnât fun?â
âYeah. It sucks, actually. This couldâve been an email.â
And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkookâs bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkookâs way. âStop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like thatââ
âIâm not lounging,â Jungkook argues.
âYouâre manspreading all over the leather!â
âThis is how I sit!â
âWell, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think Iâm fun!â
Jungkook rolls his eyes. âSo you fuck on it?â
âWhat?â
âWhat other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?â
Namjoon blinks. âWatch⌠watch a movie?â
Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if heâs suffering a Victorian ailment. âJesus. No wonder you canât score a second date.â
âOkay, 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 meââ
âUh-huh. Anywayââ
You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer youâd taken from Namjoonâs fridge in the midst of his and Jungkookâs bickering. âNot trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, yâknow. You wouldnât mind speeding this up a little.â
âOh! Yeah, of courseââ
âOh, so youâll speed this up for her but notââ
Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. âShe,â he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, âisnât needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.â)
It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoonâs living room to come up with a rough draft for the following monthâs episodes. He couldnât do it over text because heâd 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 couldnât do it over email because heârightfullyâknew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoonâs 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:
âWhat is this?â
Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. âItâs fanfiction.â
âI can see that, but⌠why?â
This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldnât possibly be fucking with him. âWell, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and thereâs an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expliââ
âJungkook, this is fanfiction about me.â
You canât help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit youâve seen on the internet (and thereâs been a lot), fanfiction of people you knowâyour friendsâwas something youâd managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.
But you shouldâve known. You really, really shouldâve known.
âOh my god?â
Youâre not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you thatâs met with a shrug. Youâre in uncharted territory now, too. âWhere did you even find this?â you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. âAnd why did you print it out?â
âBecause Iâm going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then Iâm 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.â
âItâs a podcast,â Namjoon deadpans, âhow can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?â
âItâs the internet,â you concede. âThe lore possibilities are endless. Donât tempt them.â
Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. âYeah, thatâs how you end up with shit like 4chan.â
â4chan? Thereâs Space Jam porn on there.â
As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. âSometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFsââ
Namjoon scoffs. âIâm not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.â
Wow, Jungkook mouths. âAnyway, back to the fanfictionââ
âI donât want to talk about it,â Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. âItâs weird, right? Like, itâs weird that people have written this about us?â
About us.
Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. Itâd just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, heâd said, and you hadnât been included in that. Now itâs written about us and youâre included.
âIâwhat?â
âItâs about us,â Namjoon repeats.
Jungkook rolls his lips. âItâs about the two of you fucking, to be specific.â
âCan you notââ
âFucking a lot,â Jungkook continues. âSo much fucking.â
Namjoon looks at you, and itâs 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 itâs a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselvesâabout the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sexâis weird. Not something you can unread.
And maybe itâs because youâre so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, âIâll need a couple drinks, but Iâm down.â
Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoonâs face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkookâs schemes, but itâs rare that you follow suit.
As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you shouldâve 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 pointâhe knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You canât say he isnât efficient.
The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that heâs 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.
âNo,â Namjoon repeats for the nth time, âno way. Iâll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.â
And thatâthat doesnât 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 himâthe way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his handsâyou wonder if thatâs the reason heâs being so weird about this.
Itâs just a story.
Fiction.
Most people donât have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, itâs a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, donât they? Itâs literally the reason youâre in this predicament.
Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little âu guys wonât believe what the next patreon ep is lmaoâ 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 isnât overwhelming.
Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.
Namjoon gets caught up with work and isnât available until the weekend, so youâre forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but youâre nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. Youâre 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 itâs raspy with sleep and when heâs 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 youâve known him a long timeâlong enough that there are few secrets between you, but you donât 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 youâve 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 youâve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. Youâre not going to do it, too.
Maybe thatâs why youâre kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. Youâd necked it without a second thought and now youâre here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.
âHowâs the shot look?â he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasnât allowed to be involved.
Itâs a completely normal question.
Itâs a question youâve asked and answered a million times.
Exceptâthereâs 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. Heâs always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you canât 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.
âLooks fine,â you manage to say. Heâs still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like youâre on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoonâs sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. âMaybe a tiny bit to the right if weâre being picky,â you tack on, hoping itâll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.
It works. âTo theâthe right, yeah, makes sense,â he rambles.
He moves it an inch to the left.
â
Things are tense, to say the least.
Recording hasnât been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. Youâre 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, thereâs just silence.
âShould weâŚ?â Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. âSorry, are youââ
âIâm fine,â he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. âIâll just⌠yeah.â
Showtime.
You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when youâd grown so nervous, too, because youâd 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 Namjoonâs back. Or his biceps.
Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also donât think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. Itâs only because heâd 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.
ââJungkook had. Right, Piper?â
Now itâs your turn to startle, and thereâs not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because itâs bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance youâve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you wouldâthis is a blatant display of⌠affectedness.
âSorry,â you say, âI wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?â
Youâre expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because thatâs what you usually get. But thereâs nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if youâre okay. Saying, âIs thisâthis is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldnâtââ
An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so thereâs absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, âNo, no, itâs fine! I think Iâm just a little, uh. Drunk?â
âAre you sure? We canââ
âItâs fine, Joon,â you insist. âBesides, itâll be good content, right?â
âGood content,â he parrots. âYeah, for sure.â He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. âIâll grab us some water.â
You faceplant onto the table as soon as heâs 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 episodeâs going to be about. âSomeone wrote fanfiction about us,â he says, scratching at the back of his neck. âItâs, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought itâd be funny if we read it.â
You snort. âHe might get fired, depending on how this goes.â
âHe should get fired regardless,â Namjoon deadpans. âAnyway, we have permission from the author to read this so donât come after us, and, as always, weâll put all the credits in the video description.â
âSpecial shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.â
Namjoon laughs. âIâm sure heâs having plenty of fun at home.â You both pause. âThatâs notâIâm not implying anything with that! I just meantâyou know, like. Heâs hanging out and enjoying his day off.â
âUh-huh.â
âMoving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?â
You grin, wicked and wide. âNah, just read it to me.â
âMaking me do all the work,â he huffs. âTypical.â
âThereâs a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.â
Itâs 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 youâd be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, âI guess weâll see.â
It sounds like a challenge.
Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoonâs shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if youâre ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like theyâre some old lecture notes, and theyâre conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.
And then Namjoon reads, âA louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name personâif heâd call her âhoney,â or âgummy bear,â âbabe,â or âbaby,ââ and you choke.
âGummy bear?â
Namjoon laughs along with youâthe weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. âYou want me to call you gummy bear?â
âI want you to call me a Lyft,â you snark. âIâm leaving.â
He continues:
And thatâs how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingersâthe first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesnât beg, but she does⌠Well, sheâs a little ashamed. Sheâs apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.
His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. âOr maybe youâd prefer baby?â
âFuck off.â
Weeks after that first time, itâs become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. Itâs confusing and a little mortifying and itâs starting to affect her in ways she hadnât expected. When they record, she feels fidgetyâsheâs 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? Doesnât he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook canât 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. Itâs terrible, and itâs only made worse by the way heâs doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks sheâs not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way sheâs caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly.Â
Youâve completely forgotten how to breathe.
Namjoonâs staring again. You need to salvage this. Heâs only on paragraph three and youâre already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. âWell? Do you stare at my lips?â
It works. âNo,â he scowls.
âYou sure?â you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.
âWeâre never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.â
âYou started it,â you point out. âGo on, then.â
Thereâs 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 havenât been as subtle as youâd thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you havenât been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.
Then he readsâ
And then he kisses her. Itâs 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 Namjoonâs lips curve into a smile against her own. Itâs better than sheâd been imagining it, really. Heâs a good kisserâfirm 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 sheâd want to move, anyway). When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. Itâs intimate in a way she hadnât expected, and he looks at her as if sheâs the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, âWhatâre we doing, Piper?â His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the questionâsheâs too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing andâŚÂ âKissing,â she says finally. âWhat do you want?â he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isnât an answer to his question⌠âWhatever youâre willing to give,â she replies. It feels like sheâs wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, itâs 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.
âand 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. âThe rest is, uh. Porn.â
âThat is why weâre here.â
âLast chance to back out.â
âIâm not scared,â you lie. âAre you? Youâre the one who keeps stalling.â
He huffs. âYouâre a pain in my ass,â he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.
Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. Heâs 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, âWhen 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,â because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think heâs ready to keel over and die when he reads, âNamjoon 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.â
âThat was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.â
âThis is so embarrassing,â he whines.
You roll your eyes good-naturedly. âGimme. Iâll finish it.â He hands over the papers immediately.
Except you regret it immediately. The words youâre staring at are not words you ever thought youâd read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. âOh,â you say instead.
âSee? Not as easy as it looks.â
âThis is really embarrassing,â you confirm. âI might need another shot.â
âY-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.â
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 itâs different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, sheâd 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 heâll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. âLook at you,â she whispers, âsuch a needy boy.â He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. âPlease, PiperâŚâ he whines.  âPlease what?â âPlease let me fuck you,â 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. âShould I?â 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. âDo you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?â Namjoonâs cock twitches, and he begs, âIâIâll fuck you so good, PiperâŚ. I know how, I promise. Just⌠please?â
âOh my god,â 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 heâd do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someoneâs had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.
But you canât ask because itâd be weird, so you keep reading.
âHow do you want me?â she asks softly when their lips part. Thereâs a wild look in his eyes, like heâs processing all the possible options out of everything heâs considered. And then it occurs to her. âHave you imagined this before? Thought about how youâd fuck me?â 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. âYes,â he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. âTell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how itâs done, to let you lay back and ride you so you donât have to put in any work?â Namjoonâs breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion.Â
âI told you!â you shriek, laughing in between the words. âI told you IâdâŚâ And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.
âAll of that,â he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. âWant all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.â Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadnât considered the microphone, hadnât considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someoneâs 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, âWhatâre you waiting for?â she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.
This is⌠not good. Youâre 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 thatâs 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 oneâs 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.
âI should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?â
âMhm. Yep. Yes, please.â
Donât say please, you almost say. You canât take it; not after what youâve 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 thatâs with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.
Maybe youâll have another one, too, if the author is nice.
Itâs sweet, she thinks, the way heâs 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 heâs not always like thisâhopes heâll give as good as he takes, hopes heâll 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. âStill okay?â He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt. âYeahâwant you, Joon.â âNever thought Iâd hear you say those words.â âI never thought youâd record them,â 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. Heâs whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how sheâll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does. She hates that heâs 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 canât even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides. Itâs perfect. Every time she thinks sheâs getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up⌠Itâs driving her crazy. âCome on,â she whines. âIâm so closeâŚâ At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, heâs breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. Heâs moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster. âOh, fuck, Piper,â he groans, âGonna cum.â 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, itâs 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 didnât even groan when you had to read the word âcunt,â and thatâs a feat in and of itself.
âIs it over?â Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.
âNot quite,â you answer. âThereâs some aftercare, and at the end you ask if Iâll piss on you.â
Namjoon gags. âI asked you whatââ
âTodayâs episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-comââ

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THEREâS NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasnât sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the âshippers,â but now Iâm pretty convinced. (+423) âł weâve been telling yâall for YEARS đ¤ (+197) âł Glad youâve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) âł ugh. they werenât messing around before and they arenât messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoonâs been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if theyâve had something going on for âyearsâ that means theyâre both cheaters, and thatâs 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 âwasnât allowedâ to be there? (+314) âł So they could fuck lmao itâs so obvious (+329) âł because itâs awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) âł the âitâs awkwardâ excuse is sooooo lame heâs the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, heâs gonna see it regardless. (+15) âł Tbh Iâm 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 Namjoonâs expense which is par for the course and shouldnât have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someoneâs given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew youâd failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.
It both helps and doesnât 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 youâre feeling. The way youâre 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 arenât sure. Itâs not like youâre mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel⌠off. Itchy from the inside out, and thatâs far from the norm in your and Namjoonâs friendship. In all the years youâve known one another, youâve never once avoided each other, including the time youâd 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 itâs because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You arenât 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, âHey, youâre Min Yoongiâs girlfriend, right?â because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.
Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongiâs off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and youâre on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.
âIâm gonna get a cat,â you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesnât offer any input, of course, and heâs a lot like his father in that way. âI canât believe you have a stepfather. Youâre a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.â
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 Namjoonâs new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because âsomething came up at work,â 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.
Thatâs how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoonâs work issue lasts four days. He doesnât offer an explanation and you donât ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.
Youâve 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 Namjoonâs 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 Jungkookâs witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoonâs exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkookâs late gym day, so heâll 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 Jungkookâs 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 isnât.
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 heâs either going to or coming from campusâfitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if heâs 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. Heâs wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, heâs also wearing his glasses.
According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when heâs wearing glasses.
You avert your gaze, convinced youâll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and thatâs a ribbing youâd rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, whoâs 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 donât catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and itâs not a direct mention of sex but itâs 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, âAre you oââ before you choke down whateverâs left in your mouth and cut him off with a, âYep, all good!â before youâre scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.
It doesnât 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, Namjoonâs 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 youâre going to do if you canât get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; youâll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you canât 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, âPlease let me fuck you,â 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. Youâll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.
Thatâll 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 doesnât work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and donât 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 itâs a new day, and youâre determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because youâre so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.
Exceptâyouâre not.
Jungkookâs 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 youâve shown up and Namjoon wasnât already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.
âWhereâs Namjoon?â
Jungkook shrugs. âDunno. Not here.â
You roll your eyes. âSuper helpful, thanks.â
Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. âYou donât pay me enough to also be his handler.â
You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means youâve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesnât know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadnât only texted him to say why he was running late because he didnât want toâor couldnâtâtalk 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 isnât really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasnât shown up and he hasnât said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.
Youâre halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.
âI am so sorâI broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently theyâre not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then IâŚâ
You donât catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you couldâve survived this. A week ago you wouldâve 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. â...even paying attention?â You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isnât looking at you. âThis is so sad to watch,â Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully itâs only loud enough for you to hear. âLike some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.â
Well, you canât really argue with that, now can you?
But youâre 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 youâre surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. Thereâs just⌠nothing.
âAre you okay?â you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. âI donât think Iâve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.â
âI forgot them.â
âDonât think Iâve ever seen you do that, either.â
Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoonâs jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, âWere you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning Iâve had?â at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, âOh fuck, Iâm so sorry, that was rudeââ
âYeah, it was,â 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 donât want to be here anymore. âItâs fine. Letâs justââ
Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, âIâyeah, okay.â
This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face thatâd drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where heâd say what have you been up to, Pipe, and youâd 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.
Thereâs a red light on your microphones that indicates youâre recording. Itâs on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesnât use that cringey nickname. He doesnât say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. Whatâs worse is that you know exactly why he canât speak, because youâre thinking about it, too.
âSo, uh,â you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. âCome here often?â
Namjoon ignores you. âRight, right, the introâŚâ He sucks in a breath. âWelcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, Iâmââ
âJoonââ
âNamjoon, and my co-host here isââ
âJoon, thatâs notââ
âPiper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?â
âThatâs not the name of our podcast.â
âHuh?â
âYou said Put Him in the Trash.â Namjoon just blinks. âItâs Place Him Gently in the Garbage.â
âIs it? Since when?â
âSince forever?â
He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. âIs she right?â
A beat of silence. âI canât do this,â he half-shouts, half-whines. âAre you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, Iâm quitting. Iâm so serious. Iâm gonna quit. I canât take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.â Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. âForget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is soâIâm seriously gonna quit.â

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.
Yijeong isnât with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that heâs 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 canât even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.
He, however, has no such hang-ups. âYou look like shit.â
âWeird way to say thank you.â You click your tongue and look down at Holly. âDo you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.â
âMy son would never. But also, thank you.â He flops onto the sofa. âYou do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?â
âNot with you, preferably.â
âOh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?â
âIâno.â You pause. Itâs not a dating thing, but you still feel like youâve 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 Iâve 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.
âYou look like youâre holding in a fart.â
âYou know, Iâm getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?â
He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. âWeâre okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?â
âNo,â you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. âWeâre fine, and if youâre happy, then Iâm happy for you.â He still looks doubtful. âYou want me to start singing âI Will Always Love Youâ or something? Itâs just⌠weird work stuff.â
âDepends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?â
âPodcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.â
Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. âLike, the podcast with Namjoon?â He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. âNot gonna lie, I didnât think that was possible.â
âLike I said, itâs weird. It wasnât, like, an argument or anything.â
âHow weird?â
âYouâre so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like youâre so distinguished and above drama, but really youâre just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.â
He shrugs. âIâm not denying it.â
God help you, youâre going to rip off the band-aid. âSomeone⌠Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone⌠wrote? Fanfiction? About us.â
âAbout you and Namjoon?â
âYeah.â
âOh my godââ
âAbout us⌠uh. Having sex? Specifically.â
âOh my godââ
âJungkook found it and thought itâd be funny if we read it for an episode.â
âOh my god?â
âSo we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because Iâve 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 donât know. I canât stop thinking about it? And now we canât even be in the same room as one another.â Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. âSo our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize somethingâs up, and it was Namjoonâs podcast to begin with so obviously Iâll get firedââ
âOh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.â
Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like youâve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. âNo,â you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. âNo, no. No. Itâs just because it was weird.â
âDid you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.â
âYouâre telling me you wouldnât be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?â
âNot if I didnât actually want to fuck them, no.â
âYouâre a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.â
Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way youâve ever had someone pat you on the back. âLet me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.â

Min Yoongi is a bastard.
Unfortunately, as you come to find out, heâs 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 youâre going to take this to your grave. Youâre going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and youâre going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. Youâre going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isnât it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I donât think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.
Youâve got it all planned out. Youâre going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. Youâre going to look nice, if not a little pretentiousâmaybe a nice sweater. Youâre going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesnât 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 canât remember. You canât remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now hereâs 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 thereâs an unfortunate amount of distance between you.
âUh, hi.â
You blink. âHi,â you parrot, and itâs a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. âNamjoon,â you tack on, not awkward at all.
âSorry to just show up,â he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. âItâs justâmy phoneâs still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.â
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 donât think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You donât think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what itâd be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or theâ
You cough. âDo you want anything to drink?â
âOh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.â
If you have it. What kind of person doesnât 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.
âI havenât been here in a while,â Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up heâs sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some heâd lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. âYou ever wind up reading this?â
The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after heâd read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your headâthough, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadnât written your biography.
âItâs good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.â
âYeah, of course,â you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoonâs still looking through your books, isnât looking at you, so it feels safe to say, âYou wanted to talk?â
âYeah.â He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until heâs comfortable. Thank god he canât see the look on your face. âI just wanted to make sure weâre alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.â He coughs. âThing.â
âRight, yeah.â You realize heâs waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, âWeâre fine, Joon.â
âAre you sure?â
Yeah, youâre sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. Itâs tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. Youâll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.
âIâm sure,â you assure him. âThe⌠thing⌠was weird, but itâs fine. Temporary.â
âDo you think we shouldnât have done it?â
Thatâs the million-dollar question, isnât it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasnât 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 wasnât a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.
The problem is staring you right in the face. Itâs 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 universeâs secrets, and itâs 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 youâre wondering what itâd look like from on top of you.
The problem is that youâve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and youâve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.
And you canât 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 youâre going to keep your mouth shut. Youâre going to say, âI think itâs okay that we did,â and leave it at that. Because it is okay.
Because youâre the problem.
It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, âOkay, good, because I think so, too.â
âIt made us a lot of money,â you tack on.
Namjoonâs eyes widen as he laughs. âRight? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?â
âAbout ourselves. I think that was the selling point.â
He stands. You do, too. âNever thought Iâd be doing that,â he says, returning the book to where it belongs. âDefinitely the most embarrassing thing Iâve done for money.â
âBeing a man with a podcast wasnât embarrassing enough?â
He snorts. Gets closer to the door. âHey now.â Youâre going to survive this. âThanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried weâd fucked it all up.â
Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and youâll 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 heâll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.
And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness thatâs crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, âHaaa, like youâd actually piss on me, right?â
Except it sounds like heâs got a mouth full of marbles.
Itâs no wonder you mishear him.
Because he says like youâd actually piss on me but you hear like youâd actually kiss me, and there isnât 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, âYeah, Iâd kiss you.â
Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. âWhat?â
Your entire body is on fire. âIs, uh. Is that not what you said?â
âI donât think it matters anymore what I said.â
âIâd argue that it does, for the sake of my digniââ
âYouâd kiss me?â Namjoon⌠doesnât 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. âYouâd kiss me right now?â
Thereâs also no explanation for the way you say: âItâs only been an option for ten seconds and youâre already begging for it?â
Youâd say thereâs no explanation for the way Namjoonâs jaw clenches, the way he repeats I donât 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 youâd done on Namjoonâs 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 youâve 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 youâgentle, 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 youâre unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoonâs kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How youâre so overwhelmed you canât decide: unsure if you want to waste the time itâd take to get to your bedroom, but if itâs 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 canât wait, canât 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 thereâs 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 itâs so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.
âShould I do it the way we did in the fic?â Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. âDo it like this?â he questions, pushing you gently until youâre 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. âWhatâd you say you wanted?â
Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what youâd read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before heâd sank to his knees in front of you. âWhatever youâre willing to give,â 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. âThatâs right, baby.â Christ, you think, because thereâs 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. âMay I?â he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. âFuck, look at you,â he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.
âYou want me to do it the same way? Hm? Youâre being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,â he chides.
Because youâre short-circuiting. Namjoonâs on his knees, just like youâd 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 youâd read and the way heâd 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.
âAre you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?â
He blinks. âJesus Christ.â
Thereâs precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldnât get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so itâs a lot to live up to, but it doesnât 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 heâs settling between your thighs and making you see stars.
Now you know what itâs like. Now you donât have to rely on fiction, and it doesnât matter because itâd 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, âFuck, you do taste good,â like thatâs a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesnât know exactly what heâs doing to you.
But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesnât 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 heâs doing to you, make sure theyâre slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before heâs 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, âJoon, fuckâNamjoon, waitââ 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 canât 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, youâre extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.
âUmââ
âHoly shit.â
âNamjoon, thatâs notâthatâs embarrassingâcan you grab aââ
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, heâs 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.
âI need to suck you off later,â you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. âRemind me.â
He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. âHow could I forget that?â
âDonât know. Didnât know if this would be the only time,â you answer. âDid you bring a condom?â Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.
He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he canât tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. Youâre about to tell him itâs fine, you donât have to do anything he doesnât want to, donât have to do anything at all, when he says, âIt doesnât have to be.â You just stare. âThe only time.â
Thereâs 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. Theyâll 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 heâd tried to do earlier. âHas anyone ever called your cock stupid?â
He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. âNo. Wanna try it and see what happens?â
Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice youâd used. Repeat the lineââDo you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?ââand wait.
Thereâs a beat of silence, and thenâ
Namjoon swallows thickly. âI, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.â You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. âPlease. Please let me fuck you.â
You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. âDo you know how?â Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. âDo you promise?â He nods again. âOkay. Okay, come here.â
You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isnât. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then heâs leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.
Itâs 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 youâd probably be embarrassed to hear and heâd 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. âOkay?â he asks, and youâre 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. Youâve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.
Itâs almost a shame this isnât being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoonâs making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Donât 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 donât 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 youâre keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.
He doesnât think itâs very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. âWhatâre youââ
âYou were taking too long,â you snark. âFigured Iâd take matters into my own hands.â
âYeah? Shit,â he says as you begin to move. âFuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.â
You do. Donât change a thing, because Namjoonâs 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 youâd 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 thatâs 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.
âWas that okay?â
You snort. âYeah, Iâd say it was decent.â
âMaybe next time you could pee on me,â he jokes.
You whack him on the chest. âSure. Or we could record it.â
Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you donât wear a pretentious sweater.
When you stroll in, Jungkookâs already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because heâs 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 youâve got on Namjoonâs hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.
âWhat the fuck are you wearingââ
Namjoon appears at that very moment, and itâs so hard not to take credit for the way heâs 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, Namjoonâs face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. âReady?â he asks you, and you nod.
Itâs 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. Itâs 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.
âHow was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?â Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.
So you play along. âNo, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?â
âOh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.â
âDid you? Howâd it go?â
âPerfect.â
Itâs a blessing Jungkook isnât filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isnât even a hint of hesitation in Namjoonâs voice, and although you wouldâve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. âWow. You gonna see her again?â
âYeah,â Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. âI think I am.â

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 canât 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 Iâm sick to my stomach. (+2195) âł bro you and me both đ i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) âł Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone theyâre obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) âł I wouldnât 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 âdateâ on Saturday and that it wasnât anything serious. (+788) âł Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, itâs over. (+325) âł cannot believe him and piper arenât dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) âł this is unhinged lmfao i thought yâall hated piper? youâre in here bitching abt her being a âmisandristâ every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isnât 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~ âĄ
HI YES EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO INSANE!!!


Should I be working on stuff rn? Maybe. Am I instead thinking about and drawing stuff for @yourlocalabomination's Time Bastard/The Stanley Parable au concept? Yes. Am I sorry? No :)