#i didn't know kim could do this! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ugh-yoongi · 6 months

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a word from our sponsors | knj

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s cute.”

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

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

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

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

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

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

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And second of all?”

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

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

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

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

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

“—one should we start with?”

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

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

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

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

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

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

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

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

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

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

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

“No it’s not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

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

Namjoon rattles off a time.

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

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

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

“Haaa, that’s not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

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

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

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

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

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

It’s just—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You going out of town again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

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

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

“What?”

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

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

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

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

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

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

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

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

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

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

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

“What is this?”

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

“I can see that, but… why?”

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

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

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

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

“Oh my god?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About us.

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

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

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

“Can you not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

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

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

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

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

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a completely normal question.

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

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

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

You swallow. Hard.

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

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

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

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

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

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

Showtime.

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

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

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

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure? We can—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

It sounds like a challenge.

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

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

“Gummy bear?”

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

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

He continues:

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

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

It works. “No,” he scowls.

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

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

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

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

Then he reads—

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

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

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

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

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

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

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

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

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

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

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

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

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

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is very, very bad.

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

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

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

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

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

You do not get through recording unscathed.

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

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

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

The two of you had sex.

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

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

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

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

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

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

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

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

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

Today, he wears none of those things.

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t get any better.

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

Thirty-five minutes back home.

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

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

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

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

That’ll cure you.

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

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

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

Except—you’re not.

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

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are fucked beyond belief.

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

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

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

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

“I forgot them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

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

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

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

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

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

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

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

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

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

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

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

“Not with you, preferably.”

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

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

No fucking way.

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

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

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

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

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

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

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

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

“How weird?”

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

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

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

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

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

“Oh my god—”

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

“Oh my god?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

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

You want to fuck Namjoon.

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

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

And then someone knocks on your door.

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

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

“Uh, hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you’re the problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

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

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was that okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

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

It’s seamless.

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

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

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

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

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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smutoperator · 16 days

Text

Livestream

Shin Yuna x Male Reader

Tags: amateur porn, anal fingering, big ass, butt spanking, chat comments, degradation, deep creampies, deepthroating, facefucking, fisting, fucking like animals, gonzo, human fleshlight, lube, mating press, POV, queefing, revenge, rough sex, sex on camera, sneakers, twerking

Word count: 5826.

Shin Yuna is a high-maintenance girlfriend. You can try your best, but you know that one single man can't satisfy her insane sex drive alone. She will cheat on you every time she gets a chance. Because more than anything, Yuna only cares about sex, no matter who provides it to her.

While Itzy was on tour, you knew Yuna had cheated on you multiple times abroad. She was born to fuck and is the most unloyal, slutty girlfriend that could ever exist. You know it; she knows it. So, as soon as she arrived back home after touring for many months, you made her a proposal.

"Look, Yuna, I know you fucked countless guys while you were away. You're a dirty whore after all, but if you accept this deal, I won't give a shit," you told her. "So, what's the deal?" she asked. "I'm going to fuck you on camera, and everyone is going to see it; show them who the real owner of your slutty body is," you replied.

"So you want to record a sex tape of me? I guess it's fine. It didn't hurt Kim Kardashian when she got hers leaked, did it?" she said. "Basically, but we are going to do it live. I know you fuck better than you sing, so you have no excuse not to put up an amazing performance," you poked her.

"Sure, bring the cameras on," Yuna invited the challenge, creating an account on OnlyFans going by her English name Hussey and teasing her subscribers as she counted down the days for the livestream. You brought one of your friends to be the camera operator and got yourself a handcam to film Yuna's sexy body up close.

The stream started with you filming Yuna's beautiful, naughty face as she walked towards the bedroom. You two were about to set this whole thing up. You two kissed each other in front of the cameras. Yuna then moved in the direction of the bed. Her upper body was completely clothed, but she left her lower body already half naked, with just her panties on. Yuna was truly a natural; she always knew where the camera was and made sure to make the horniest expressions to tease the audience.

You grabbed Yuna by the neck, which brought the first massive cheers from the crowd in the comments. "Choke this bitch," they said. Yuna got on her knees on the side of the huge bed that was waiting for her, licking her tongue as she stared at the camera. You jumped your mouth on her neck like a vampire and gave her a little hickey. The room's camera zoomed on her to show it and captured her very silent but sexy moans.

The kissing and choking session continued until Yuna lied her back on the bad. The aerial view of her body was sensational, as her panties were so small that viewers could already take a glimpse of the outer edges of her pussy. You lifted her shirt and gave the audience the first peek of her boobs from the lens of your handcam. When Yuna puts her hands on her panties, you switch the angle to let them watch her teasing her pink pussy.

You unbuttoned Yuna's little skirt and put her legs over her head, letting the audience get a better view of her lower body. You licked her fabric as you teased her, and she moaned. You moved your tongue all over her thighs and hips as she spread her legs, and you gave her a little spanking.

You finally unveiled the gates of heaven, pushing Yuna's thong to the side and giving viewers the first look at her perfect pussy. "I want to fuck that pussy now," one of them commented. You teased it with your hands, poking her asshole as well and filming it. Yuna enjoyed your touch, especially when you dove to give her cunt a kiss.

You picked up some lube and poured it around Yuna's genitalia, knowing it was going to be tight even if her pussy had served as a sleeve for more than a hundred cocks during all those months of touring. Her meaty lips were driving both you and the crowd in the comments insane. You rubbed her clit hard from the start, searching for that heavenly nectar you knew she would soon gush out of it.

You inserted a pair of fingers inside Yuna's tight cunt, making her moan louder, with your thumb rubbing the hood of her clit. You already panted with the way her walls clenched around your fingers, knowing your cock wasn't going to be an easy task. Yuna is such an experienced whore; her body knows exactly how to react every time a strange object goes inside her vagina, and she makes sure to coat your fingers full of juices.

"Oh shit," you panted, already out of breath, as Yuna used her own hands to finger herself. "Damn, she must be really tight," someone commented. Indeed, she was, so much so that if your fingers had a way to shoot cum, they would be filling her pussy to the brim. Meanwhile, Yuna just moaned and enjoyed you digging deeper inside her.

You gave Yuna a little taste of her juices, which she loved. "Give me some spit," you ordered her as her face filled the camera's lens. This time, you finger-fucked her even faster, making her moan harder as you fisted her entire cunt, which Yuna took with ease, treating your arms just like an oversized cock and showing the flexibility of her vaginal muscles.

You couldn't resist for long and showed your bulging erection to the audience. Yuna smiled and quickly helped you, unbelting your pants and taking them off quickly, placing one hand on your throbbing shaft and another in her pussy. "What a nice cock," someone commented. It could have been Yuna herself, because she was already ready to take it.

Yuna quickly guided her mouth into your pecker. You zoomed right into her face, giving the perfect view of her slowly making it disappear down her warm throat with her eyes wide open. "She looks like a human fleshlight," one comment said as she loudly bobbed her head on your dick and spat all over it.

Yuna took your cock fully deep in her throat, giving you the green light to fuck her beautiful face. Your handcam had zoomed so close that viewers could see the veins both on your shaft and in her face. Her eyes turned red as she choked harder and harder on that dick, a view you wouldn't get in most professional POV porn scenes.

"Fuck her face," the crowd commented. You did just as they ordered, but soon learned it was one of those situations where an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object, as Yuna managed to take all your cock in and fight back, making you come really close to a premature ejaculation. You saved yourself by giving her a huge tap in her cheeky ass that made her react by gagging and pulling your cock out, creating a string of saliva between it and her chin while doing so.

"Give me more," she ordered as you rubbed your shaft against her mouth entrance. You knew you had to think outside the box to tame this brat. She was clearly coming out on top, moving now to twist your cock while taking it in her mouth. "Just like that," you told her. But you knew you had to end her fun if you wanted it to last long; otherwise, Yuna would milk you dry rather soon.

"AHHHHHHH!" you screamed as Yuna deepthroated you and just couldn't detach herself from your hips. You were forced to use your salve valve once again, spanking her ass for a second time. Your tip was full of her bubbling saliva, but Yuna kept looking at you as if she wanted more, licking it before she took it back in her mouth. "Holy shit that bitch knows how to milk a cock," a comment said.

Yuna was driving you insane; the harder you fucked her face, the harder she throated your meat. "Bitch wants to choke on that dick, lol," another comment said. It was time you finally showed her who was in control, but she was only getting bolder, kneeling on the bed and shaking her ass in front of the camera.

Yuna continued to throat and spit on your dick as you lied on the bed. But this time you were having none of it. Using your leg, you reached over her head and locked it, pushing your hips up and pounding her face. "Choke this bitch," the comments ordered, cheering as you fucked her face like a fleshlight and turned it into a mix of her spit, your meat, and her messy hair.

"Yes, take it, all the way deep," you ordered as you dunk her head right into your shaft. Both her cheeks now had matching tones of red. Her naked belly in front of the camera turned viewers on. "Dude needs to put a baby in that tummy," they said. But nothing got more attention than her arched-up ass while she choked on your meat. "Girl got a nice ass," the comments poured on.

The stream kept alternating the camera angles between your handcam and the bedroom's cam. Either angle, Yuna looked hot on both; one satisfied those who wanted to see her beautiful face full of cock and saliva, and the other was a treat for those who loved her hourglass body, especially when she started licking your balls like a needy puppy, leading to her shirt sliding down and unveling more of her torso.

"God damn it," you couldn't believe what you had just done, getting yourself on the edge even further as Yuna showed you she essentially had a throat made of steel. The more you pounded, the harder she could take it. "Hmm yeah, I see daddy loves when his girlfriend chokes on his dick," Yuna finally said a word besides just moaning, smirking at the whole situation and your struggles to survive the human embodiement of sex.

Yuna just couldn't stop throating your shaft. "Is this what you guys wanna see?" the chat moderator asked. "Yes, make that bitch choke on his dick," the comments answered. And Yuna was giving exactly what they wanted, coating your cock full of saliva.

You slapped Yuna's body and forced her to stop to avoid cumming earlier. As you took some time to recover from her throat attack, viewers were treated to Yuna's amazing half-naked body. "Damn, I love her legs," one said. This time, you stood up and let her lie on the bed, zooming as her tongue worked all over your balls while she used one of her hands to jerk you off. You reached under her blouse and started massaging one of her perky boobs, moaning as she filled your balls full of her lipstick, and viewers could see your cock throbbing to the fullest at the camera.

Yuna kept having fun with your balls as you slowly unveiled her torso, groping her tits a lot while doing so. "Hot slut," one commented. You fucked her face as it hung on the edge of the bed, preparing yourself for the next steps, but not without punishing her into your personal onahole, unleashing your anger over her fucking all those cocks while on tour as you pounded her face, pinched her tits, and poked her navel.

"Open your eyes, open your eyes, cunt," you ordered her as Yuna tried to close them. Your shaft hit her whole face, and your balls slapped hard on her nose and eyes. She gagged and turned into a mess of saliva, to the point where it almost looked like you had given her a bullseye cumshot. You were now shoving your balls deep in her mouth alongside your shaft, taming Yuna in the roughest way you could think. It was what she deserved for being a horny cheater who only thinks about sex 24/7. "Keep your eyes open; let them see," you told her, as the audience agreed. "Keep it open, whore; show us how much you want this cock," they said.

Yuna may have wanted your cock a lot, but at that point you wanted her pussy even more, pounding her face as you previewed what you wanted to do to her cunt. "Bitch looks so dumb choking on his dick," one commented. It really turned on the thought of degrading her in front of an audience of thousands, so you kept going, making sure to give them the best looks of Yuna's sorry, bitchy face getting completely obliterated by your massive monster cock.

"Turn around," you told her as her big ass now filled the camera's lens. "Wow, she's got a nice ass," the comments said. But better than her ass were her dangling, meaty pussy lips just hanging in there with a piece of fabric right beside it. You poured some lube at Yuna's lower parties, zooming so close that the camera managed to show the pores of her shiny, lubed butt.

You pushed Yuna's thong further to the side, removing any obstacle in your way. You teased her, rubbing your shaft against the cracks in her ass as your tip touched both her holes and your thumb fingered her asshole. "Which hole, guys?" you picked up your phone to ask. "Pussy!" "Ass!" the comments alternated at an almost 50-50 split. "You guys can't decide," you said. "I guess it'll be up to this whore right here," you said.

Yuna grabbed your shaft and made her choice. "Put it inside you," you told her as she guided it right into her tight pussy just as you two had scripted it. "Ahhhh," you let out a groan as her tightness always manages to surprise you, so much so that it was Yuna who moved first, swinging her hips to clash against yours even on all fours.

"Ahhhh, yes, baby, bury it deep in your pussy," you told her. Yuna enjoyed that even in the most submissive position, she could own your cock. Heck, she could own any cock; they were always whipped, throbbing, and hard, ready to enter her holes at any second.

"Take me, daddy," Yuna orders, arching her hips even further up. Her ass cheeks are already red and on full display for the audience. You zoom closer towards your cock, going in and out of her pussy, which leads to some complaints. "We want to see her ass," some comments say. You oblige, grabbing Yuna's ass as you pound her and showing it on camera.

It doesn't take long for you to pump fast. "Shit," you groan as her pussy crushes your massive shaft like nothing. You take very long thrusts inside Yuna, going all the way and then pulling all the way out. Her moans are a mix of sexy and cute, straight out of JYP's school of slutiness.

Yuna takes your cock with ease; you're just another guy for her countless count. The same can't be said about you. This is the first time you fuck her since she started touring, and adjusting to her ultra-tight pussy proves to be very challenging. Meanwhile, for Yuna, it's just the best sensation; a big cock stretching her holes while holding itself not to burst at any second makes her feel really special.

"Damn, I'm really that slut; Daddy is struggling not to fill that pussy to the brim, right?" she asks. You ignore her provocative ways, trying not to let her get into your head. But you already know her pussy already owns the other head on your body, making it throb and pulsate each time it touches the depths of it.

You let Yuna swing her hips freely, taking some time to record it. She doesn't make it any easier on you, slowly descending on your cock at each bounce. She lets the audience know how much she loves it by winking her asshole right as it gets to the center spot of the camera.

"Come on, bro, fuck the shit out of her; that whore is begging for it," one guy comments. You lose your cool and start pushing fast, spaking Yuna's ass every five seconds. "Fucking dirty slut," you tell her. Her pussy turned you into a primitive ogre that can only pound, spank, and groan while doing so. The camera zooms out and shows you taking on Yuna, who stays like a perfect submissive cocksleve. "Just like that," you tell her as her moans get louder and the camera switches to a top view of her slutty body, with Yuna having to cling to the bed to endure the intensity of the pounding you're now giving her.

"Get this shit in your pussy, whore," you tell her. "Oh my God," she moans as you get rougher, taking your clothes off. Yuna, however, takes advantage of you slowing down and goes back to swinging her hips. "Come on," you tell her, loving the way she bounces and clashes against your hips.

Yuna almost makes you burst once again as you escape yet another close call. She slows down and brags about her perfect, tight pussy. "Tell me, Daddy, you were sick of those fleshlights while I was on tour, right? They can't hold a candle to my tight little pussy, right?" she provokes.

You respond by hammering her even harder. "Fuck me hard, daddy," Yuna tells you, her knees almost falling out of the bed. You do as she wants, bringing her body up and choking her. "Hahaha, choke that bitch," the comments enjoy it. Yuna closes her eyes and licks her chops, a moment the camera captures perfectly.

Yuna's legs get weaker as she loses her breath and collapses into the bed. You take advantage of it and plow into her pussy from behind as you start prone-boning her. The camera moves to the back and shows her wide open pussy turned into a fleshlight as you pound the shit out of it. "Holy fuck, he's going to destroy her," some comment. She starts moaning, her long legs up in the air with just her sneakers on, your faces no longer visible on the camera as you two turn into an animalesque fucking where you're just a raging bull pounding a slutty cow.

"Oh fuck," Yuna moans as you make her completely helpless. The bed starts shaking, and loud noises come from its supports cracking as they try to hold it in place despite you burying your cock deep in Yuna's cunt and pressing her body as hard as you can against the mattress. "Look at her pussy farting," some say in the comments as you stretch it out nonstop and it starts queefing. The more it goes, the less you feel compelled to stop, and as much as Yuna is getting completely obliterated, so does she.

Yuna tries to fight back and arches her ass up. That only makes the crowd react even better. "Bro is fucking her like a dog," one comment says. The loud noises from her pussy getting wetter as you pound her confirm she really likes it rough. You go so hard, her long legs start to swing, and her sneakers hit the camera. "Oh, oh, oh," she moans. That only makes you go more animalesque, putting your body fully on top of her and penetrating her pussy at a straight angle.

"Damn, he's mounting on top of her," a comment says as the camera zooms into your cock, completely stuffing Yuna's cunt and eviscerating her body into submission. Yuna pretends to fight, but she can't do anything; you just bury your cock further deep in her pussy and behave like a dog in heat. "God, he's such an animal," a comment says as you remain on top of Yuna for a good five minutes and she starts howling at each thrust, with her turned into nothing but a cocksleeve.

"Fuck me, daddy, don't stop," Yuna commands. Not like you intended to stop at all; you own her pussy now. The stream viewship reaches further peaks as word of mouth starts to spread out, and people are really enjoying what they are seeing.

"Destroy that bitch," the comments command you. With one hand, you pink Yuna's body; with another, you spank her fat ass. "This is what a proper whore looks like," the comments continue as the camera shows an utterly hopeless Yuna completely pinned to the bed, her naked back and thong to the side making her look like a cheap prostitute.

You push Yuna's body sideways for the viewers better enjoyment. She is completely out of breath as you switch into a spooning position, but keep the intensity. Her little boobs bounce to the camera as you kiss her while pounding the shit out of her. Yuna spreads her legs and reaches down to finger herself. She grinds her teeth, as even for such an experienced slut like her, taking so much cock at such a fast pace is hard.

You take a more passionate approach with Yuna, filling her beautiful face full of kisses, but not forgetting the roughness as you choke her and stay pounding her at all moments. But soon, your animalesque side takes over again as you make it harder and harder for Yuna to breathe, choking her so hard she coughs. But better for you is that the more you choke her, the harder her pussy tightens and throbs.

As you slow down, Yuna, still recovering from the pounding you gave her, lifts her legs for you to finally take her thong off completely. Viewers get the perfect view of her pussy, with her danling inner lips and long outer lips in full display. Yuna then takes her shirt off as you massage her boobs, getting fully naked except for her sneakers. You two kiss each other, then you lower her head and feed her the juices from her cunt.

Yuna looks at the camera; her fully naked body is a treat to the audience. She teases the crowd. "What do you guys want next?" she asks. But you quickly try to put her in her place, shoving your cock back in her cunt and fucking her as the camera captures her body in a close-up and Yuna puts her fingers in her mouth.

The high-intensity affair that follows proves a missionary fucking isn't always vanila. You and Yuna give full effort, entertaining the viewers with torrid fucking and multiple hot moans from her and animalesque groans from you. Her boobs jiggling and the bed cracking as you pick up the pace offer and extra teasing—that gets even better with the close-ups of your cock stretching her pussy out.

Yuna's pussy only gets tighter as the fucking goes on, forcing you to pour even more lube. This time, you entertain the audience by placing it not only in her crotch but also all over her naked torso, making her giggle as the cold liquit hits her erect nipples and perky boobs. Yuna spreads the lube over her body as you continue to fuck her, helping you slide your hands with more ease and tease her as you film her body as eye candy for the viewers.

"Show them your pussy," you say as you zoom into Yuna's cunt and spit on it and finger it as your cock keeps pumping it. The camera captures your pounding perfectly, with you zooming in and out and teasing Yuna's boobs to the audience as well. She moans as you pick up the pace and work all over her clit. "Cum for the camera, baby," you order her, as the clit-fingering continues all the way until Yuna blasts her juices into the lens filming her.

You spank her cunt shortly after Yuna cums. "Good girl," you tell her, groping her tits too, rewarding her with a mating press fucking that ramps up the intensity even further. Viewers can't even see her face as your frame completely covers it, but what they can see damn well is Yuna's ass jiggling and wobbling as you clash your cock right against her hips.

"Damn girl, where did you get that ass?" one comment asks. Yuna holds her legs up and grabs her sneakers as you pound her even harder, choking her again as well. "Stupid cheating whore," you tell her as you spit on her face and top her completely. "Oh my Godddddd~" Yuna can barely breathe as you manhandle her pussy, making her look completely limp and helpless, with your balls slapping her cunt at each thrust.

Yuna tries to escape from your grasp, but she looks completely numb now. She flashes her pussy to the camera, as it doesn't take long for you to fill it again. Her boobs get groped as you spoon her into the bed. "Dude's addicted to her pussy; she must be amazing," someone comments.

Yuna looks at you with her eyes full of lust; one of your hands stays on her neck; another grabs her tits as you passionately continue to fuck her; and she rediscovers what made her fall in love with you: pure, raw, unfiltered hard sex. "You're a fucking animal, daddy," she tells you, as at this point you can only think of fucking her pussy until you die.

The stream stays for a good 10 minutes on some sexy and passionate action between you and Yuna as you two enjoy each other with lots of fucking between hugs and kisses, trying as many positions as possible, but with you taking control as always and turning Yuna into your submissive fucktoy until you finally manage to get tired. Still overwhelmed by so much sex, you and her take a break as Yuna knees and throats your cock with her ass turned right to the camera.

"What a delicious ass," one of the comments says as Yuna ruins what was still left of her makeup by diving deep into your cock. She slowly blows your pipe up, savoring every inch of it and covering it full of her spit as she gargles all over that dick. "Are you ready to sit on it?" you ask her. Yuna doesn't answer, instead taking some good minutes twisting it and getting increasingly sloppy, going all the way down your balls to throat it, and then licking your throbbing shaft as it pulses.

Yuna puts on a great show for the camera, moaning as she sucks your dick and fingers herself. "I want a camgirl like this for me," a comment says. Her little performance captivates the audience. "Now that's a slut who knows what to do," as all eyes focus on her, with Yuna winking to the camera as she deepthroats you to the fullest and covers your cock even further with spit.

You barely survive Yuna's deepthroat as she keeps worshipping your cock, her perky tits bouncing as she makes a mess of your dick, and groaning as she rotates her mouth on it. "Bitch is biting that dick like a dog," a comment says. "Fuck my face," she demands as you get back on top of her. "Lmao, look at her dumb face." The comments continue to fly as you fill her mouth full of cock and bulge under her throat.

Yuna licks your balls as you rub your cock all over her slutty face and make her choke on it further afterwards. She loves the way you treat it like a fleshlight. "Now I think it's ready for me to sit on it," she says.

Yuna positions herself as you guide your cock back into her pussy. Her big ass occupies a large chunk of the frame as your cock slowly disappears under her cheeks. Her moans when she descends down that dick are extremely sexy, as she starts bouncing her ass all over that cock, already putting you on the edge. "Damn, that girl knows how to shake that booty," someone comments.

The camera keeps filming Yuna twerking her ass on your dick as she tries different angles and leads the crowd in the comments to go wild. "Bounce that ass, bitch," they comment. Her performance is so sensational and immersive that it feels like she's bouncing on the cock of someone in the audience. "Oh my God, ahhh, ahhhh, ahhhh," she moans as you hit her cervix. "Damn, this is way better than VR porn," someone comments.

"Oh damn, that's perfect," you tell Yuna as she moves towards fast and straight bounces. Her fat ass causes a quake each time it hits your hips. "Damn, I love that angle," someone says as Yuna's butt is right at the center of the screen and keeps being the star of the show. When you accidentally slide out of her pussy, Yuna starts to tease you, grabbing your shaft and rubbing it all over her butt, paying special attention to her asshole as she pokes your dick on it a few times.

"Come on, keep going," you tell her as Yuna puts your cock back inside and smashes it with hard and violent bounces. "Girl is giving that dick a workout," a comment says. You spank her ass as she gives you yet another close call, but that only makes her go harder. "Spank that bitch," people command in the comments.

You put an end to Yuna's slutty show as you get back on your feet, putting her back on all fours and pointing the camera right at her ass. Your cock pumps her hard and deep as viewers watch it to the fullest, seeing your shaft go in and out of her. More ass-spanking ensues as Yuna begs you. "Spank me, Daddy, please," she says. The camera keeps moving but always lands at a spot where viewers can see a lot of her fat ass while your big cock stretches her pussy.

The camera finally zooms out of Yuna's big ass, and viewers get a glimpse of how tired both of you are after almost an hour of fucking like animals. You two keep going regardless, trying to find every extra dose of energy just to enjoy each other's bodies to the max. At this point, Yuna can barely move, as you are completely on top of her.

You give Yuna a break as you two switch sides, and she gets back on top of you. The camera zooms out back into the crowd's favorite asset. If they want her ass, then let's show them as Yuna sits back on your pole. Her eagerness for sexy goes so far that she is bouncing hard the moment you're back inside her. "Ahhhh, yesss," she moans. Both of your bodies get close and wrapped against each other as you two share the love for each other as you suck her tits while she bounces on you.

Yuna grabs your chest and keeps bouncing, but can barely endure more than 10 seconds now. She's exhausted; her heavily pounded pussy is throbbing. You just slow down and make love with her. Until she delivers the message.

"Breed me, Daddy," she tells you, making you flip a switch. The animal inside you awakens as you put her back against the edge of the bed and give her a hardcore mating press. The crowd in the comments starts to go wild. New viewership peaks are hit every second, and little did they know things were about to get spicier.

Yuna becomes your submissive fucktoy as you spread her cunt for viewers to see. You then slowly mount on her and ragdoll her body. "Holy shit, he's going to destroy her," the people in the comments say. The cameras capture what is essentially a real-life hentai. You, on top of her, press Yuna's body down the bed as you plow the shit out of her pussy. Her face completely disappears, as all viewers see now is her big ass bouncing at each thurst.

"Ahhhh, yessss, fuckkk," Yuna moans as your cock obliterates her pussy. Now you're only going to stop when you cum. The rampage keeps going on as the comments flood the chat. "Pump your cum deep inside her." "Keep fucking the shit out of that bitch," "Destroy this slut," "Look how hard her ass bounces," and so on.

"Give me, please, cum in my pussy; oh my God, give me your cum," Yuna begs, her voice cracking as she can barely stand straight after over an hour of pounding. You start screaming, and soon you grant her wish. "AHHHHHHHHHH," you yell as you empty your balls in her pussy, getting so addicted that you keep fucking her even after you finish.

"Holy fuck, he just can't stop," the people in the comments say as you fuck Yuna until your last drop of cum hits her pussy, resting on top of her with your cock still buried deep in her cunt as you kiss her. "Dang, that was hot," someone in the comments says.

You finally pull out of Yuna. Her pussy is filled to the brim. "Oh my God," she says, not even thinking straight. She was not on the pill and started thinking she'd get pregnant soon. You bring up a speculum and insert it in her cunt, showing viewers how much you filled it up. "Damn, bro turned her into a cum dump," one says as they watch your seeds resting in her throbbing cervix.

As you remove the speculum, Yuna masturbates herself, trying to expel the cum from inside her pussy, with the broadcast ending as she coats her camera full of her juices after a hard squirt. "Ohhh, fuck," are the last words as the livestream ends.

"You did so well today, you fucking whore; guess you missed daddy's cock," you tell Yuna, already off-camera. "And you missed my tight pink pussy, didn't you?" she replied back. You call your friend in the other room, who was operating the broadcast. It turns out he had come on his pants while doing so, unable to resist the sex appeal of Yuna.

The livestream ends up being an amazing success, getting lots of views and bringing tons of money to both of you and Yuna. "You made a great choice of thumbnail there," she tells your friend, talking about her choking on your cock.

Seeing the success of her first attempt, Yuna asks you:

"Hey baby, want to do another one?" she asked

"Maybe later, what do you want this time?" you reply

"I don't know. Maybe anal. A DP. Or even a gangbang where you watch me get destroyed by half a dozen cocks."

Damn, the more you give her, the more she wants. Yuna is, indeed, a very high-maintenance girlfriend.

#yuna smut #itzy smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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chuluoyi · 4 months

Text

HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

2K notes · View notes

wifeyoozi · 19 days

Text

Kim Mingyu : Best Friend Rule 57

w.c : 1.6 k ┊ synopsis : the 57th rule of the bestfriend rule book states, "thou must giveth a head to thy bestie in the time of need." ┊ content warning : smut ,, best friends to ...?? ,, blowjobs ,, gn!reader ,, coming down the throat

a/n : mdni !! not completely beta read. This is just me being horny af for mingyu recently.

This is fine, Mingyu thinks. He has shared rooms before. He has shared rooms with you before as well – with his best friend and, for a long while now, his crush. He could do this. He forces his focus on the sappy rom-com movie playing on the cable TV in the hotel room from the fact that you are pressed closed against him on the hotel bed, sharing packet popcorn with him. You are mostly eating it, he's barely even watching the movie.

Some time ago after you settled on the bed beside him, you'd huddled over to him, “Gyu, scoot over. The TV is kinda weird, I can't see properly unless I'm looking right from the centre,” You said as you snuggled against him.

Snuggled against him, until you were pressing your bare thighs to his clothed ones and your arms pressed up till there was a thin sweaty layer in between, your head resting on his shoulder.

He tried to change his position a little, gripping on the comforter tighter around his waist, just hoping you wouldn't notice his, well, little developing problem in his sweatpants.

The movie ended too soon after that and you sighed, “fun movie to waste a Saturday on, no?”

Mingyu hums, about to suggest another movie, because he's a sucker in love who'd spend two more hours suffering in silence in his pants to spend some quality time with his crush.

Instead, you opened your phone screen, reading a text, “uh, the team is doing a campfire night, you wanna join? They brought beer and all.”

“Uhm, no I'll pass tonight. A little tired,” Mingyu said with a smile as you stood up and yawned, stretching your limbs a little. The last thing he wants is to take his little problem outside this room to the rest of the coed basketball team. He'd never heard the end of it from soonyoung, and the thought alone makes him wanna die already.

He watched as you stretched your arms, your shirt sticking tight to your chest, your nipples pebbled under prominently visible. He has never looked away faster. Were you not wearing anything under that flimsy shirt? Were you planning to go to the rest of the team like that? The thought simultaneously made mingyu jealous and turned on and he tried not to let either show up on his face.

“Alright, suit yourself! Don't miss me too much,” you said, winking playfully as you walked outside the room, closing the door behind you.

Mingyu let out a big breath he didn't know he had been holding. He shakes his head before getting up and leaving to the bathroom briefly to get the box of tissues papers. He didn't have lube – of course he wouldn't bring one to his college’s basketball team picnic – so his spit would have to do.

He sighed, taking his aching dick out finally. It's not his ideal style. The bedsheet is scratchy and cold and the headboard hits his head at an awkward angle, but he shifts himself till he's fairy comfortable.

He pulls his shirt to his armpits, fingers of his one hand brushing over his nipple as he spits over his other hand and takes his dick. He gives himself a few lazy strokes, trying to bring his dick to a full erection. He glanced over to where you say beside him, impulsively grabbing your pillow and putting it against his face. Just as he imagined, your perfume lingered on the fabric of it.

He wasn't in a hurry, he knew you would take time if you were going to drink with the boys. He had plenty time.

He thought of you as he stroked himself sensually, occasionally reaching up and flicking and pinching his nipples. He feels intoxicated by your scent in him. He tugs off his boxers till it's pooled around his ankles. He slowly increases his speed, his thumb pressing over the tip where the precum leaked.

He was getting closer to his releasing, your name softly leaving his lips in whimpering whispers.

He heard the door open. Shit.

He has the exact time to either pull down his shirt or pull up his pants before you'd be face to face with him.

Not being able to think properly with his fogged mind, he chose to pull down his shirt instead, leaving his fisted cock out in the open for you to see when you entered.

Your eyes widened, a brown bag in your hand, “i, uhm, thought that, uhm, I'd get us some take out.”

You're flustered, but not as much as him. He is completely frozen, his hand doing little to hide anything about the size or hardness of his cock.

“I-i uhm,”

“That's okay!” You rushed in to say, “I, uhm, I'm your age too! People have, err, urges! That's completely normal, y’know.”

Mingyu is strongly aware of your gaze over his penis as you keep the bag of take out on the floor and climb on the bed beside him. He retreats back of shyness, bringing his knees closer to conceal himself a little.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, “uhm, y/n-”

“Shit, you're, like, so big, mingyu,” you chuckle breathily, pushing his knee away. Mingyu would almost think that it was yet one of his sick fantasies, except it wasn't. Mingyu was aware and proud of his well endowed body, but he never knew the things it would do to him hearing it from you. Suddenly mingyu didn't know what words were.

“Should I help you?” you ask him as if you were offering coffee, “friends help each other, right?”

Friends help each other. Friends help each other with a fucking erections.

“Y/n,” mingyu shudders as your finger gently hovers over his red angry tip. He'd meant to say, don't say stuff you don't mean or will regret later. Instead, the words that slip his tongue are, “don't tease.”

You chuckle slightly, “okay, gyu, I won't,” taking a firm grip of his cock above his own fist. A breathy moan leaves his lips. You meet his eyes once, staring deep before looking back at his dick, “gyu, do you think I can fit your dick in my mouth?”

And that is how kim mingyu (born 1997, sex male) died at the tender age of 21. The team would have to carry his body tomorrow. His tomb stone would say, died of blowjob offers. Mingyu thinks – nevermind, Mingyu can't think anymore. His brain is fogged up with the thought of your pretty pink lips around his cock. Fuck.

“You can try,” he mutters softly. He takes his hand off his dick, allowing you full access. You pushed your hair back and wrapped your soft lips around his head. No foreplay, no kitten licks, no jerking him off. You took him in his mouth directly, pushing your head down till you felt his dick filling up your mouth.

You sucked on the length in your mouth, wrapping your hand the remainder of what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Mingyu groaned, his hands grippinng the sheets tightly. Your mouth was hot and warm and wet. So fucking wet. Your technique is a bit sloppy, but mingyu loves it nonetheless. He'd love anything with you and his dick in a single picture.

You take out his dick from your mouth, looking up at him with red lips and flushed face. Fuck, are you pretty.

“Shit, I didn't know it was this hard,” you say, chuckling, “sucking a dick, I mean. You are as hard as it can be.”

“You've… never given a blowjob before?”

“No, why would I?” It was a dumb question on his end, dumber on yours. Neither of you was thinking straight about it though, so it's fine.

“friends can help each other,” he thoughtlessly echoed your words.

“Well, not any friend,” you chuckled. “You're my best friend, gyu!”

Mingyu momentarily wondered if you were even hearing yourself. It felt like a unspoken bestie rule mingyu was unaware about till now, that you must give your best friend a head in time of need. Because you seemed so serious like this was a normal best-friends activity to do, casually sucking their dick.

“Can you shift here? The angle is awkward like this, I think I can take it better if I kneel in front of you,” you tell him, motioning towards the end of the bed. He nods without even bothering to think, shifting at the edge of the bed till his legs hungoff the bed. You shifted on the floor, in between his legs. You looked up at him, taking his leaking erection in your hand and placing it in your mouth.

You forced your gag reflexes to relax and took him as deep in your throat as you could, till your nose was buried in his pubic hair. You sucked him off genuinely, eyes staring deep into his the whole time. He held your hair back, guiding your head to bob up and down on him. He threw his head back, moaning shamelessly despite being aware of the cheap hotel walls as he recieved what felt like one of the best blowjobs he's ever had.

It didn't take long for him to cum spilling down your throat.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” he took out his dick as you choked on his cum, the remainder of it spurting on your lips and cheeks. You coughed a little but swallowed his cum. Mingyu looked at you with wide eyes, realising what you did.

You grab a tissue paper from the bedside table and wipe your mouth. You flash him a smile, “I'll take a quick shower and then we could continue watching another movies while eating the take outs. Why don't you pick this time?”

“Aren't you going for the drinks by the bonfire with the rest of the team?” Mingyu asks dumbly.

“Nahh, I'll pass. Soonyoung and Chan always end up getting super drunk, causing a mess,” you say, getting up to head to the shower.

If Mingyu saw a super wet spot in your shorts and that made his dick twitch, it's nobody's business.

Though he would be down to give you a head if you needed it after your shower. Isn't that what the besties do after all!

#svt #seventeen #svt smut #svt x reader #mingyu #kim mingyu #svt mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu smut #mingyu imagines #best friend mingyu #just filthy mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader

1K notes · View notes

primalsharkman · 5 months

Text

Petty? Pretty.

Kim Chaewon x M Reader | 🔞 Smut

[Enemies to Lovers, Academic Rivals, Fake Dating]

Word Count: 5,385

You sighed as you put the pen down at the table. It was your final exam for the year, meaning that all your hard work has officially paid off. The projects you made were certainly extraordinary, definitely leagues apart for the company you were in. However, the pressure of coming in second was like a pump shotgun being shot into the back of your head multiple times. You know, you cannot let Chaewon win again this year.

Of course, Kim Chaewon. The school's greatest academe mind since, ever. Always getting the top grades, the top approval, and all the top boys. The latter which, you really didn't care for. But she had the run of the mill, taking the best with her for her own pleasure. Stories and rumors of her taking the university's quarterback spread around like wildfire. She'd deny it, but everyone knew otherwise.

You roamed around the halls in deep thought, the heavy weight of your books in your hand was very aching, but you were close to dumping them into your locker.

"Finally..." You sighed after arriving at your locker and opening the combination, and only then dumping the books inside.

Vacation was on your mind, but you knew the year isn't over yet. A familiar scent was on your tail, and you knew exactly who wears that specific perfume in your school.

Turning around, you found the academic goddess herself, standing beside you with her bag slinging by her side and giving you a stare. "I hope you did better than you did last year, it was almost too easy for me to beat you." Chaewon said, confidently and with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at her and crossed your arms, "I've had enough of your gloating, Kim. You're an egomaniac and you really need to get yourself checked before you break down once you see I did better than you."

"Big talk for someone who's only ever beaten me once, in a team debate, no less." Her voice pierced through your heart, and it did hurt. Sure, you did never beat her one on one, but you fought her so hard that you'd get recognized and put in the same conversations as her name did.

"What do you want, Kim? Are you just going to ogle your tits in front of me? Because let's be real, I wouldn't fuck you in a million years." She just chuckled at the statement and gave your crotch a light tap using her wrist.

"Trust me, I wouldn't fuck you in a million years too. But there is something I need." That was when you just smiled at her and closed your locker before walking away from her.

Chaewon panicked and followed your pace, keeping up by your side. "H-hey, I just said I need your help!" You waved her off before she grabbed your wrist and sped up to drag you away from the halls and into an empty area away from the students.

"Listen, I know we've had our differences but this is about prom." At this point was already looking at you like she made up her mind and she will do everything to convince you.

You sighed. "Let me guess, you want me to go with you to the prom?"

"Yes."

"I don't think we should, Chaewon."

"But we could win prom king and queen."

"Does that even matter?"

"If it means beating Yunjin and her very clingy boyfriend, yes."

You just stared into her eyes after that quick exchange, but you knew how insufferable the school couple was. They were everywhere, being flirty and just rubbing it in people's noses. It was a sight.

Pacing around the room and opening a window, it was easy to see that this was an opportunity to get your name trending again. But was it worth it when Chaewon's name is going to be beside yours?

"Okay, but I will dictate the ground rules. You will wear a black dress, you will do the talking, telling people that we got together recently and that you were the first to fall for me." Chaewon just looked at you angrily while the demands were being listed.

"Ugh, fine. I'll pay that price just to stick it to her. Just see how she likes it." She may hate you, but she really doesn't like being upstaged, and unfortunately for Yunjin, she got in the way.

A quick thought entered your mind. "Oh and one more thing," Chaewon turned around. "... You're not allowed to fall in love with me."

She just smiled, "Won't be a problem, I'll see you at my place then. Don't forget to bring flowers. Ciao~" She said as she left the vicinity. You were left standing there with nothing but your bag in hand, and shortly afterwards you went home.

_____________________________________________

The drive to Chaewon's was fast, thanks to the traffic not holding people up. Her apartment was still 3 floors up, so you had to climb up the flgiht of stairs to reach her door and give her a knock.

"God why did I listen to her..." You whisper to yourself while holding a bouquet of flowers in your hand as your cheeks fill with a red blush.

Chaewon opened the door and gave you a judging smirk. "For once, you finally listen to me huh?"

Embarrassed, you just looked away and handed her the flowers, which she gladly took and had a whiff of them. "They're pretty, okay? Don't be too shy, you're acting like this is real." She giggled as she went down the stairs waiting for you.

You opened the door for her, and she went inside without a word. You breathed out a sigh of relief and went back inside the driver's seat and started driving.

It was mostly a silent trip, neither even giving each other exchanging hi's and just humming to the song playing on the radio. It was nerve-wracking for you, as she can just say anything crazy in a second.

But then you heard a sweet and soft voice speak, it was soothing to the ear and yet you know Chaewon is never this soft and sweet. "So, this is it. Time to act flirty, you'll take care of me right?" You just nodded at her, "Just behave like a good girl and we'll win your petty prize." Getting out of the car and you open the door and take her hand before guiding her inside the venue.

The vibe around the prom was magnificent. It was themed as a romantic getaway, with beach designs and a drawing of a sunset as the backdrop for the stage. You can only look around as the people start filling in the place and you stare at Chaewon.

You weren't kidding yourself, she was looking spectacular. She left the flowers in the car but even with just one flower tucked on her ear, just looking at her makes your heart skip a beat.

You found some seats for you and Chaewon to sit in, it was in plain sight so everyone could see that the two of you are in this prom together. You put your arm around Chaewon and she gladly put her hands on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your crotch.

"Dangerous game you're playing here. Be careful not to touch anything." You gulp as you say those words.

You only heard a small chuckle as she whispered, "Try not to get hard okay? We don't want you going in the bathroom leaving me out here don't we?" She sure has her way of being very provocative.

Yunjin and her boyfriend finally showed up, dressed perfectly to compliment each other's styles. Everyone was astounded at their sight, looking like the royal couple, everyone was reminded of who they really are.

The grunt Chaewon releases between her lips was pretty cute, she was angry, but most of all she was very petty. "Okay, time to turn up the heat." Those were the last words you heard before you felt her lips crash into yours.

Her kiss felt like floating in space freely. It felt freeing and wonderful. Next thing you know, you were making out with your rival and the event hasn't even begun. You could get lost in this feeling forever, and you wanted to stay in this moment. Somehow, someway, Kim Chaewon is a perfect match for you. The way she holds you, the way she wraps her hands around you, it is truly something worthwhile.

These thoughts were interrupted by the sound of loud music entering your ears once you realize she let go. "...What the fuck was that for?" was all you can conjure up for your first, and possible the best kiss of your life.

"Gotta show them who's boss. And right now, we have the mental advantage. Everyone's looking at us right now." You did look around to see them whispering and muttering to each other about what they saw, even Yunjin was perplexed when she took her seat nearby.

"If this doesn't end in sex, i'm dropping you off the side of the highway." You claimed jokingly.

"Ha! As if you'd actually want to fuck me."

"With a kiss like that, now I know why all the boys want you."

"Is that a fact?"

"Oh shut up, i'm giving you a genuine compliment." Chaewon smiles after hearing that and gives you another kiss. This time, it's even more passionate. Your pants were starting to tighten and it got really, really heated. You knew you had to get some food to calm yourself down before your primal instincts take over and bend her down the table and fuck her brains out.

Once you broke the kiss, you asked her. "Do you want me to get you a plate or no?"

"Okay, boyfriend. Go get me a plate." She hit your balls again as you stood up and you lightly kicked at her feet before walking towards the catering.

Right now, you didn't give a shit about the deal you made. It doesn't matter whether you win prom king and queen, because pretending to be her partner was already a thin line to walk on, but now that she's being very playful and teasing you to great extent, you might not last the night.

You got her the plate, and you sat back down next to her. Before she could even mutter a word you just dug into the food. Thankfully she didn't say anything and just ate.

Thank god no one bothered you two, just having people pass by and smile or even give a simple wave is enough. Chaewon was a tiger in academics but socially, she is so much worse. There's a reason she doesn't have a clique, or even a best friend. She just preferred studying and going at it alone. Even with projects, you saw firsthand how she asked the professors if she could do it alone. She was granted her wishes, and she's done better than all of them. You were no slouch of course but, you're not insane enough to do group work solo.

"Let's go dance. We need to be as cute as we can." She said as she put down her fork and wiped her lips with a tissue.

"Don't fucking tap my balls again, you stand up first." Chaewon nodded and stood up, waiting for you to join her.

Taking her hand, you guided her to the dance floor and thankfully, the music was set low. There were a few people on the floor including the royal couple but the spotlight was on you. Nobody thought the two best minds in the entire university would be on good terms, let alone dating.

Chaewon did her best to act as subby as possible, knowing that it was her best chance to win those votes. She smiled, giggled at your jokes and even started talking to the other students on the dance floor while you roamed her around in the dance. If this was the Chaewon you saw in school everyday, you might've just fallen for her instantly.

"Hey, look at me for a while would you?" You said as you grabbed her chin and made her face you.

"What do you want? I'm trying to win us some favor here..." She said in a quiet but rage-filled voice.

"Is it so bad for a couple to actually look at each other and talk? Come on, you know better than that."

Chaewon just nodded and looked at you. Your heart melted through every wall you ever put up once she did. How in the hell are you falling for Chaewon? You know how she is. You know every dirty tactic and every move she's done to you. You hated how she tapped your balls everytime she found an opening. You hated the way she liked other boys. You hated it when you found out she was absent for a week due to a fever. You hated missing her. You hated falling for her at every step of the way.

Chaewon yelped when you firmly grabbed her waist, pulled her close and straightened her hair out behind her ear. "If you're gonna kiss me, I'd do it that way too."

You ignored her words and just kissed her. You didn't care if everyone was watching, you didn't care if anyone actually wanted to see it. All you wanted to do was kiss your rival. The rival you desperately tried to hate because you knew she'd never love you. The rival you never asked out because she was too busy studying her tits out. The rival you only ever loved.

As you let the kiss go, Chaewon stared at you for a moment. She immediately let that go and went back to being the same Chaewon you know. For that night, she belonged to you. And you took full advantage of that fact. You ate, you danced, you loved. It was all you could think about for the rest of the night.

It was over soon enough, and you remembered why you were there in the first place. You breathed in heavily and made Chaewon put her arm around your waist as you waited for the announcements. You didn't even listen to the announcement, all you did was feel her touches and let her hear the names she wanted to being called. Next thing you know, you were up there with her, taking a ribbon and a crown. It was pretty funny looking, but seeing Chaewon's face light up is a pretty good sight. You smiled at the crowd and thanked them for the vote.

This was when Chaewon broke free. She let you go and went to the car so she could celebrate her victory. You followed suit and went back in your car.

"Well, i've had my fill of achievements for the day. Take me home." You just nodded and drove. It was a pretty slow night drive. You didn't go over 40, mostly because you just wanted to enjoy her company more.

"That's all you wanted? Seems pretty shallow to go through all that trouble." You said.

"Then I'm shallow. All I care about is that I am on top again." Spoken as softly as she could.

"You do realize we're gonna have to break up during the summer right? I can't fake date you forever."

"Then let's break up."

"Fine."

"Fine." She just crossed her arms and sat on the passenger's seat and stayed quiet.

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

You parked your car in the back, you wanted to clear your head space once you drop her off back at her door but you just stayed in the car first, and so did she.

The crickets chirping made the deafening sound of night feel, not so deafening. You took time to process everything that happened in there, and you looked at Chaewon, who seems to be doing the same thing.

"Hey, can I see your cock?"

"What the fuck, Chaewon?"

"Don't be a fucking pussy about it."

"I'm not in the mood."

"Why not?"

"Because... because I'm not sure if I like you or not."

"What?" Her eyes grew wider as you dropped those words.

"Just... let me think, okay? You were out here all night flirting with me like... it felt real chaewon. It felt real, all of it."

"You don't have to think about it..."

"Oh so now you're trying to restrict my thoughts of you? Don't play games with me Chaewon."

"I'm not!"

"Then why—"

"Just listen to me! You boar-headed dipshit! I like you too! Okay?! Is that enough?!"

You two just looked at each other with your eyebrows furrowed and neither of you were able to land a word after she confessed her feelings to you.

"I like you too. I didn't want to, but I like you! Get that through your thick fucking skull." She said angrily.

It was a lot to process. You both broke the rule of not falling for the other. And now you are at each other's throats because you both were confused and angry that the person both of you were trying to beat at every turn, was someone you actually were into.

If academics didn't mean a thing, you two would probably have hit it off at some point. But unfortunately, that pressure got to you both. For the first time, the weight of that pressure was actually lifted and you could only breathe out a strong, relieving sigh.

"Damn your kisses, Chaewon." You joked.

"Oh boo-hoo." She went for you and kissed you again. This time climbing out of her chair and sitting on your lap. This time, the kiss was different. It was more carnal than romantic. There was more tongue involved as you swing yours with hers and intertwined then as the shared kiss continued.

You grabbed her waist, and slowly reached out those hands into her ass. She gave out a lot moan and adjusted her position so you have full access to her plump, round ass.

She leaned her kisses towards your cheek and towards your ear, where you can hear every small moan and whimper she lets out of her mouth.

The hands you had around her ass were fondling them and enjoying the soft cushions they gave you. Chaewon was already getting wet, but you have yet to know that. You didn't want to go over what she considers her boundaries so you didn't move a muscle.

She felt your cock under her getting bigger and she just looked into your eyes. "Hey... we should take this inside."

You nodded and opened the door so she can climb out. You followed her and locked your car before heading up those dreaded stairs to her door. Once the two of you get there, she immediately opened it with her keys and dragged you inside by your collar.

It only took a shut of the door for her to throw herself at you with another kiss, jumping into your arms so your hands can carry her thighs as she wrapped her legs around you.

"Fuck..." you could only mutter as she rained down heavy kisses on your lips, your ears, and even your neck. It seemed like she knew what she was doing, and for your virgin ass, you went along for the ride.

"Take me to my bed. And take that goddamn suit off already."

"Yes, baby." You dragged your feet through the room and plopped her down the bed. You untied your necktie and threw it across the room. She kneeled on the bed as you stood over her, and she grabbed your polo and unbuttoned each and every single one while giving you the hungriest look a horny woman can give.

It was obvious she was having fun playing this game, and it felt like hell for you. Your cock was twitching in your pants and it started to hurt. She noticed you wincing and took off the polo before unbuckling the belt in your pants.

Her head was dangerously close to your cock and your hand moved itself to brush her hair and hold it down to your crotch, which was her eye-level. She pulled it all down and your cock sprung to hit her nose.

"Ow..." she said as she grabbed the hard cock in her hands, smiling.

"Your hands are pretty nice..."

"It fits your cock really well." She giggled and hummed as she dragged her hand down the length of your cock as you moan out quietly. She knew not to put too much pressure and she knew the perfect way to touch your cock and give you the pleasure your body is used to.

All you could do was grab her hair and turn it into a makeshift ponytail, where she smirked. "You know what it means when a guy does that to a girl right?"

"I think so. Do I get a guess?"

"No. You just get to feel your consequences." Her lips enveloped itself around the head of your cock, and the heat from her mouth makes you hold on the ponytail tighter.

She looks up at you as she takes your cock in painfully slow, licking along the way. You were panicking as the pleasure was getting too much for you, and Chaewon was just getting started. You didn't want to be a 10-second wonder.

She kept working around your cock, drenching it in her spit and sucking it like it was her final project. She's making sure it felt perfect.

Your legs were shaking at this point, your cheeks turning red at the possibility of you not being able to control yourself and not cum in her mouth. These sensations got you to let her hair go and put your hand on the wall nearby so you won't fall down.

Chaewon dragged her mouth down to the last inch of your cock, and tightly pulled out giving your cock a light lick at the end before she sat up and looked at you. "You're gonna cum, aren't you?"

"I'm trying so hard not to." You decided to be honest with her.

She pulled your waist down so you're sitting beside her. She gave you a smile and said, "Cum inside my mouth. I really want to know how nerd tastes." She giggled as she went down on your cock again, not holding out anymore and giving you the most sloppy and disgustingly heavenly blowjob you've ever had.

Her tongue was circling around your length as she bobbed her head up and down. You couldn't even speak due to how good she was sucking your cock. All you could do was grip her sheets and moan out her name again and again.

Her lips kissed your underside, and her free hand gave your balls some love, fondling them. She took your cock inside again and deepthroated every inch you can give her.

She was blushing. She enjoyed sucking cock, especially if that cock belonged to someone she knew on a personal level from many years ago. Sure, it was all on hatred, but she knew you better than anyone, and that turned her on even more.

Your cock was twitching in her mouth, she knew you weren't gonna last longer, so she pumped and sucked and the same time, and that was all it took for you to explode.

"M-ngmhHgh! Chaewon...! mmgh! fuck!" That was the most coherent sentence you can come up with while your body was in ecstacy. Orgasming to the point not even you have reached before.

Her mouth stayed where it was, your cum filling her cheeks as she swallowed each strand of cum, one stroke after another.

When she was done, she sucked your cock to clean it, and wiped her lips off before laughing.

"Nerd doesn't really taste different from jock. But I gotta say, your cock was so much cleaner and doesn't smell as bad."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yeah, no one sucks cock better than me."

You sat up and put a hand around her thigh. "So, what's next?"

She smiled as she pushed you down, "You're the first guy to ask for what I want."

You turned your head to look at her and she was taking off her dress, and you were watching her show off her body to you.

You were blushing but the next thing you see was her towering over you, and you get a VIP look of her beautiful pussy. It was shaven, it was perfect, and you wanted a piece.

Your mouth opened and she smiled before lowering herself down to you and sitting down on your face. She grinded slowly as you moved your tongue to eat her pussy out.

Her taste was a new sensation to you. The first time you've ever ate pussy, and you're already getting addicted to her taste. She was sweating and that only added to the tang of her flavor, you dug your tongue deep in her folds.

Your tongue found her hole opening up and you slid it in. "Oh..! Good boy... that's a good boy..." Chaewon muttered while hissing and holding on to your hair.

You closed your eyes and moved you head to tongue fuck her, as she moaned loudly like she had no neighbors. She gripped her bedside and bounced on your tongue as she kept moaning.

"Yes... baby... oh fuck! come on..." She kept hissing and moaning under the sensation of your upper lip kissing her clit and tongue fucking her. You picked up the pace and held on her thighs, taking your tongue out of her hole and focusing on licking the clit fast and good.

"Oh it has been a while! Yes! Don't you dare fucking stop, don't stop, don't stop!" She kept screaming while grinding her pussy on your tongue on her clit. You put more pressure by pushing your tongue into her sensitive clit more and more as she gets brought to the brink of her orgasm.

"I'm gonna cum! Please, don't stop! I'll get off if I want you to stop, okay? Please just... ah! Keep going!" Chaewon says as she reaches her orgasm and grinds on you harder as her moans become more hoarse and heavy.

You kept licking her to destroy her senses and feel an seemingly un-ending orgasm for Chaewon. She got off you and laid down the bed before catching her breath.

"Where... how did you learn... to eat pussy like that?"

"I never did. I only know the clit is the most sensitive part so, I guessed."

"You're a natural then, god damn. Despite being a nerd, that knowledge came in handy. Try using that knowledge to beat me next year okay?"

"What if I beg you to lose for once?"

"That's a price you don't wanna know." She smirked as she recovers.

"More pussy eating?"

"I have a list of demands. I'd rather show them to you before we start school next year."

"Good. But we're not done here Chae." You show her your hardened cock once again, showing her you have recovered from her blowjob.

Chaewon smirks and lifts her ass a little bit. "I want it deep, hard, and fast. None of that slow, methodical, romantic bullshit."

"You got it." You lined yourself up behind her and didn't even hesitate to stroke your cock and slide it deep in her.

"Mmph! Good! Just like that." All Chaewon could do was moan on her pillow as you started picking up the pace and fucking her pussy like your life depended on it.

You grabbed her ass and spanked it, earning a yelp from the girl. She kept asking for more, so you put a strong hold on her hips and crashed your cock deep inside her wet pussy again and again and again.

The sound of your sex was echoing across the room, it was erotic and accompanied with her moans after every thrust, it was truly music to your ears.

"Yes! Your cock is so big inside me! I love every single inCh of it! Mmm!"

Slapping her ass, you kept your mouth open and joined her moaning. "Good god Chaewon, your pussy is so good! So wet and so fucking delicious." You gave her ass another slap.

"Ah! So it is! Fuck I wanna fuck you again and again. Please, make me cum again, make me yours and I won't ever be a bitch around you again!"

"Good girl, I like that." You pulled her arms back into you and grabbed her head so your face is buried in her neck while you fuck her from behind.

"F-Fuck! Rub my clit!" You follow her command and rub her clit in the same pace you're fucking her pussy.

Her moans get even louder and you had to use your hand to cover it up so her neighbors wouldn't get the wrong idea.

Her bed was rocking and it was making a lot of noise. Between the creaking, the moaning, the sloshing sounds the sex was making, it was very hard to hide the fact you were fucking her like a machine.

She kept begging for you to cum inside her and you keep telling her to wait. You were looking for your orgasm but she was ready to unload hers.

"I'm gonna fucking squirt all over! Please I want your cum! I'm gonna fucking... ah!" You pulled out as you felt gushes of water from under her. You held on to her neck as she gripped your arm tightly while she was squirting. Your arm reached down and rubbed her clit so it felt extra pleasureable to her.

"God! I made a mess..." She yelped before you took her body and lied it down on the dry part of the bed and kissed her hard.

You slid your cock back in and fucked her in missionary. Her legs were up in the air as she was moaning in your kiss. The thrusts your cock was giving to her kept sloshing as the rest of her squirt and the never ending wetness of her pussy was lubricating your cock to the point where it looked like cum.

She already came multiple times and she wasn't going to stop, until you did. "What is taking so long?! Mm! My pussy is destroyed here... you need to fill me up, please daddy."

That was the last straw. The final push you needed. Once you heard her say daddy, your senses kicked into overdrive and you fucked her like a machine one more time before unloading your second round of cum in her pussy.

This orgasm hit you like a truck, it felt good, but once it was finished you feel like you have been ran over by a truck. It was tiring and you were drained.

"I guess... daddy is the magic word then." Chaewon giggled as she wrapped her arms around you and pecked your lips.

"I'm sorry I didn't warn you. You must've been so surprised."

"No, actually. I knew you were tightening up when your cock pulsated aggresively. So I expected the creampie sooner."

"God damn it, you're not gonna get pregnant now are you?"

"I'll be okay. I wouldn't have let you fuck if I was in danger of getting pregnant anyway." She giggled again.

"Really? Even after the kissing we've done earlier?" You sound a bit perplexed at this point.

"I'm not an idiot. I'm smarter than you, remember? Don't feel superior just because I called you daddy once."

"I'm just curious, no need to gloat."

She kissed your cheek and chuckled. "I'm okay, you don't need to worry."

You nodded and pulled out her before lying down beside. "So, what now?"

"What about it?" She looked upwards at the ceiling.

"What are we?"

"Right now? I can't say."

"We just told each other we liked each other. What else is there to think about?"

Chaewon playfully hits your arm. "You need to court me, genius."

"Wouldn't you just say yes immediately?"

"I probably would."

You held her hand and kissed it. "So, will you be my girlfriend?"

Chaewon smiles, and turns towards you. "Yes. I'll be your girlfriend."

~FIN~

A/N: That was rough for a first fic, I didn't proof read this so I'm open to suggestions and whatnot. Twitter is the same handle as this one, you know where to find me.

#kim chaewon smut #izone smut #le sserafim smut #chaewon smut #enemies to lovers #fake dating #oneshot #academic rivals #smut #chaewon x reader #chaewon x male reader

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ja3yun · 4 months

Text

Undercover Lover | P.JS

detective!jay x detective fem!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), !!rough!!, choking, throat fucking, tit slapping, pure filth, , jay gets like super angry (but he's secretly a sweet soul), swearing, slight mention of alcohol, not proofread.

wc: 9k+

synopsis: you've been forced to work with your work rival, park jongseong, on a case that could bust one of the biggest dealer in seoul, but things don't go according to plan.

(part 2)

a/n: hi! it's me, just giving you a little something while you wait for the sunghoon fic <3 this was originally part of a bigger plot but i didn't finish writing it. Also, if you've ever seen Just Go With It, the dinner scene might be a little familiar since i based it very loosely on it. i hope you like it, it's a bit rough and isn't the best well written because you know i thrive on lovey dovey simp men, regardless, enjoy!

“I cannot believe I got stuck with you on the assignment”

“Feeling is fucking mutual, Park.”

When your boss told you’d be working with Park Jongseong you protested to the high heavens, and you downright refused when he told you that you would have to pretend to be his wife.

“Absolutely not.” you crossed your arms in a huff, not even sparing a glance at either of the men in the room.

Heeseung groans loudly, “Listen, don’t give me shit okay, I already had it from him,” He points to Jongseong who is leaning casually on the office door, as if barricading you from an easy escape, “You’re the only female on the squad that isn’t on a major assignment right now.”

“Why can’t he just do it himself?” You ask.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I’m not buzzed about this either but Kim Kwangmin invited me and my ‘wife’ to a private dinner and overnight stay, and in case you haven’t noticed I haven’t got one of those.” Jongseong pushes himself from the wall as he speaks to you.

Jongseong is undercover to do a massive drug bust that won’t only take down one of the biggest suppliers and dealers in Seoul but also get your department a massive boost in funding and recognition. It was a big deal to your boss and the whole department. You just had to work with your biggest rival in the precinct.

“Just tell them your ‘wife’ is sick.” You claw to find any excuse not to do this. It wasn’t just pretending to be his wife but the scenario in which you have to; you can’t possibly sit in his company and pretend to be in love with him for a whole dinner.

“It’s either that or I'll suspend you,” Heeseung warns.

“Hee, you can’t do that! It’s unjust suspension.” You proclaim, standing up.

“Yeah, and I’ll file the paperwork,” Heeseung stands to mirror your challenging stance, “You will be Jongseong’s wife. End of story.”

So here you are in his hired car as he drives you to the hotel in the middle of nowhere. In a way, you understand why they basically forced you to do this, the payout would be phenomenal, but you still grudge it.

The drive up has been anything but pleasant. You and Jongseong can’t agree on anything, not even the radio station, so you’ve been in silence for 3 hours, only barking out judgments of his driving or telling him how awful the idea is.

Pulling up to the hotel you stare in awe, it’s a whole different level than you’re used to, the tall white building that looks more like a castle beats every Premier Inn or Motel 6 you’ve been forced to occupy. Despite not seeing the inside, you can already guess the marble detailing and artwork on the ceilings, like something out of a princess movie.

You’re too busy gawking to realise the car has come to a halt and Jongseong is stepping out of the car, the only thing that alerts you is the unnecessarily loud bang as he slams the door shut behind him.

Opening the passenger door, you walk around the car to meet him as he flips open the boot to take your suitcase out. Inside, you had everything you’d need for 2 nights: dinner dresses, heels, pyjamas, guns, and handcuffs - all the necessities for a weekend away with your ‘husband’.

Jongseong pulls out your case with one hand and examines it, looking at you quizzically. You don’t understand what he’s so puzzled about, it’s just a suitcase, “What?” you finally ask since he won’t give it to you.

“It’s fluorescent pink…with fucking daisies on it.” His eyes are ridiculing as he looks between you and the case.

“So what?” You nab it from his grip and wipe it down. A few years ago you had seen the suitcase in a shop window and instantly fell in love with it and had to have it, no matter the cost. Petunia has never left your side since, and being on this assignment wasn’t going to change that.

“You’re supposed to be my wife, not my daughter,” he snarks, pointing dramatically to the semi-childish suitcase, “We are going to meet with the most powerful drug lord in all of Seoul and you’re carrying around a Dora the Explorer bag.”

You take offence, of course, you would, how dare he compare Petunia to a children's cartoon backpack, “Don’t speak about her like that, she’s got feelings.”

Jongseong’s face deadpans as you stomp away. He quickly retrieves his own luggage and locks his car before chasing after you. Opposite to your luggage, his is a sleek, black metallic case, that matches his personality - cold and hard. Somehow, your suitcases said everything about each of you.

“You aren’t seriously upset are you?” He asks, pulling you back before you get to the main door, “Look, you can’t fucking blow this for me, okay? I’ve spent months on this case and if we aren’t on the same page, he’ll guess something is up.”

You want to slap him right now because his tone is so condescending, it’s infuriating, “Apologise.” You face him, eyes tough as they look into his pupils.

Jongseong groans and almost throws a tantrum. Grabbing your arm he takes you to the side, all too well aware how anyone could see you two bickering. He didn’t need this to be the reason he lost this assignment, “Fuck, look, I’m sorry for slagging off your suitcase, okay?”

But you don’t budge, eyebrows lifted expectantly. Your eyes point down to the pink case, “Don’t apologise to me, apologise to Petunia.”

“Petu-, what the fuck are you talking about, Y/N? I am not saying sorry to a fucking case.” He is going red in the face, frustration coursing through his veins. “Are you really going to be that childish right now?”

You stand your ground, waiting for him. He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, hands on his waist once he comes to understand you are not going to let it up. He is going to have to apologise to an inanimate object if he wants to proceed with the weekend, “If I say sorry to…Petunia…will you please start cooperating with me?” As you nod, he sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, “Okay, I am really sorry Petunia, I think you’re a lovely suitcase.”

Feeling accomplished, you grasp the handle of your case and smile, "She accepts." You walk away smugly, head held high, leaving him behind to head to the front doors again, this time with a spring in your step. When you return to the office, you will gladly inform the girls in admin about this.

As you and Jongseong walk into the building, it is exactly how you described it, classic and grand with a bustle of wealthy people. Suddenly, the jeans and blouse you’re wearing don’t fit right on your body.

Something touches your hand and you yank it away quickly, almost going into defence mode before you look down to see Jongseong’s hand stretched out beside you.

He looks down at his empty hand and back up to you, his face serious, “Take my hand,” He asks, bored of this conversation already.

“Ew, why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’, you’re my wife, remember?” Oh, yeah…you suppose the charade started as soon as you walked through the massive turnstile door. Sighing, he takes your hand again except this time he successfully intertwines his fingers with yours, the feeling of your hand in his is foreign and peculiar, he doesn’t think he’s ever held hands like this with someone despite being in his 20s, “You ready?”

With a quick nod, you both make your way to the reception desk. The woman behind the counter is physically flawless. The pinned-up hair and her faux mink lashes fanned across her eyes making her gaze sultry, and her plump lips were upturned into a generous smile.

You could tell Jongseong was a bit taken aback by her beauty because it took him a minute of staring before gathering his words, “Hi, we have a reservation, should be under Hwangs. I believe Mr. Kim Kwangmin arranged everything.”

As soon as he says the criminal’s name, the receptionist straightens her back, face whitening a little. She clearly knew of his nature and like most of the city, she did not want to mess him about. Usually in fancy establishments like this, they ask to see ID before checking people in, but not this time, the girl was too flustered to do anything other than nod and rearrange her desk. It’s lucky for you she didn’t ask for ID considering your undercover operations unit didn’t have time to muster up any fake passports due to the suddenness of the invitation.

Your aliases for this case are the Hwangs. Apparently, you’ve been married for a year, dating for 3, and dotingly in love with one another. Jongseong is new money, he inherited it from his late Uncle who passed away. Kim Kwangmin prayed on people who had more money than sense, enticing them to create fake companies where he could ship drugs from A to B. That’s why it’s been so hard to catch him because he’s never the name on the papers. But if Jongseong can get him to talk about it in detail, he’s got him behind bars.

The conversation of a wife came up randomly in conversation, Kwangmin is a family man who loves his wife and kids, and for Jongseong to gain his trust he spouted a load of bullshit about how he was in the world’s most perfect marriage with the love of his life. He doesn’t know why it worked, but he isn’t going to question it now.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hwang, you’ll be in the Ambassador Suite as per Mr. Kim’s written request. I’ll call someone to escort you and take your bags,” She points with her hand to the lift while two men come up to take your things, “If you make your way to the private elevator,”

Jongseong thanks her, bowing as he takes your hand again. All eyes are on you already but that isn’t surprising, it would be more bewildering if no one was watching you considering you’re the prestigious guest of a drug king.

You both get up to your Suite and it is unreal. The lift opens directly into the room and you’re met with nothing but luxury. Perhaps this assignment did come with some perks. Taking your shoes off, you whisper a little ‘wow’ as you look around, the clean cream carpets feel like you are stepping on a cloud, you almost don’t want to put on the complimentary slippers that are waiting for you, but you do anyway, trying to soak up as much of this experience as possible.

Jongseong walks straight ahead, not even soaking in the embellishments of the Suite. He wasn’t one for blissfully looking around, he had a job to do after all.

You do a quick tour of the place before you hear Jongseong groan, “For fuck sake.”

“Hmm?” You prance over to him, still in a dream-like state from all the luxury and elegance, “What is it?”

“Look,” He keeps staring in front of him as you join him to look at the bed. It looks so inviting, the rich Egyptian cotton throws and fluffy pillows make you want to jump on the bed. So you do.

You take a step back before launching yourself onto it, squealing out a soft ‘wee!’ as if you’re a kid shooting down a slide in the playpark. The way you’re acting is perfectly representative of your luggage but you don’t care, you’re far too busy doing snow angels on the soft duvet, “What’s the issue? This is perfect,” You roll around a few times to really soak it in.

“Just wondering if you’ve had a look around,” He twirls his finger in a circle, looking at you disappointedly.

“Yeah! There’s a bath, a bar, a lounge area bigger than my house,” You go on listing everything you saw.

“Mhmm, and was there another bed?” He asks.

You think, “No I didn’t see-”. Okay, you see the issue now. There was only one bed. With an annoyed scowl, he shook his head at the sheer obviousness of the situation, as if he was frustrated he even had to address it.

Sharing a bed was the last thing any of you wanted, so you had to come to an agreement, however, both of you seemed to be thinking the same thing. “You can take the couch.” You both say at the exact same time and it creates an eerie silence in the bedroom.

“This is my assignment, I get the bed.” He argues, walking around to grab you and throw you off, but you use your weight against him, playing dead.

“No! I was forced here, my job was being put on the line, so this is my bed.” While you protest, he’s climbing on the bed, pulling at you to get off, his hands gripping your wrist to heave you off, but you won’t go down without a fight. Kicking your legs, you try to boot him off you, but he’s strong and half of you is off the bed already, “Jongseong! Let go!”

“Stop being a baby and let me have the bed!” He fights back. The hold he has you in is representative of a bodyslam that wrestlers would do in the ring, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, “Come on, Y/N. Give it up.”

With a swift kick, you boot him in the balls, causing him to groan and roll over, body going limp. Panicked, you sit up and check him, “Shit, Jongseong, you good?” But he doesn’t say anything, instead clutching his goods, face screwed in pain. Tucking your hair behind your ear you lean over him, checking his pulse. He might be dead, he hasn’t moved for a hot minute.

Jongseong breathes out, trying to dull the pain. You played dirty, he respected it, but his dick didn’t.

“Jongseong, hey, I didn’t mea-”

You don’t get to finish your apology because he’s suddenly got his hands on your shoulders and flipping you both around so now you’re the one on your back, his body weight keeping you down, “What the fuck was that?!”

Laughing you let out a pathetic ‘sorry’ but Jongseong isn’t amused. However, the snorts coming from your mouth sweeten his distaste for the situation a little. Quickly, you cover your mouth, shocked at the noises you’ve just made. Staring at each other, you both hit a fit of giggles. You haven’t snort-laughed in so long, not since a girl's night back at the beginning of the year.

Once the hilarity dies down, you look up at him still hovering over you, the heat from his body bringing a flush to your face that you hope you can pass off as a lack of oxygen from the giggling. However, when he meets your gaze, you notice the same blushed colour across his cheeks. You swear for a whole second he looks handsome, like he has a face you don’t want to punch for once.

This Jongseong right now shows an unexpected softness in his gaze which brings back memories of when you met him for the first time at the precinct. Back then, he was full of life, free of the responsibilities of the job. For a brief moment, it feels like you've caught a glimpse of a different, more approachable side of him.

Suddenly, his decoy phone he’s been using undercover rings loudly, startling you both off the bed and helping you regain your sense of judgment because the way you were starting to think about Jongseong as he lay on top of you was…It will never happen again.

“That is my bed. Period.” He says, swiping to answer the call on his phone.

Fixing yourself, you do your best to ignore what just happened, grabbing your case from the front door and unpacking it on your bed.

He walks back into the room and chucks his phone on the bedside table, “Kim wants us for dinner at 8pm sharp. Go get changed.” There he is, the usual mean and cold Park Jongseong. Any feelings you felt earlier are gone with the wind because this is who he truly is. He doesn’t even spare you another look before he leaves to get ready himself.

Just two nights, that’s all it is.

_______

8pm comes faster than you thought and as you swipe the last bit of lip gloss to your lips, you hear Jongseong complaining about how you will both be late. Instead of paying him any mind, you give yourself the once over in the bathroom mirror. Your makeup is smoky and sultry, and your hair is curled loosely since you didn't have the time to fight with bobby pins to put it in an updo. The dress you’re wearing is a little over the top but when you read the case file you noticed how Mr. Kim loved extravagant, and boy was this dress just that. The black body-con, dinner dress hugged you perfectly and accentuated all the right places, a bold slit travels up your thigh which reveals just enough skin with each stride, and the sweetheart cut paired with off-the-shoulder lace sleeves just add to the drama of it all. You looked like you stepped out of a James Bond movie, which wasn’t a bad thing at all.

“Can you please hurry up,” An impatient Jongseong bangs on the bathroom door.

“Relax, oh my god!” You place the lip gloss in your matching silk bag and walk out to greet your ‘husband’.

“About fucking time.” He mumbles, looking at his watch, “We need to…go.” His words trail off as he finally sets his eyes on you, “Woah.”

“I look good, huh? Can I pass for a millionaire’s wife?” You twirl, widening the slit to show more of your leg and Jongseong’s jaw nearly hits the floor. He’s so used to you in athleisure wear or jeans with your hair held together by a claw clip that’s missing two prongs, he didn’t think you could look so elegant, so beautiful.

Floating over to him, you place your two fingers under his jaw and close his mouth, “You’ll catch flies, baby.”

Embarrassed, Jongseong regains his senses and swats your hand away, “Shut up. Let’s go.” He pushes you slightly to the door as you chuckle over how flustered he is. It did make you feel a little bit sexier than you did before because if you can make Park Jongseong swoon, you’re definitely going to have the attention of Mr. Kim, and attention is all you need to gain a confession.

With your arm in his, Jongseong leads you to the dining room where you’re set to have dinner. He spent the elevator ride going over the plan. You had to act a little dumb, make him feel like he’s leading the conversation, and be all over your man. Of course, Jongseong would make his wife obsessed with him, he doesn’t get any action outside of this fantasy, well, that’s what you tell yourself. His personality is so repugnant that you can’t imagine anyone being with him. No matter how hot he is, especially in a suit.

His beauty in the tailor-made suit didn’t go unnoticed by you, he looked delicious, but he was still a prick, a prick that hated you.

The dining room is filled with upper-class cartels, all businessmen who would do anything to be on top. It makes you feel a little queasy, but you swallow it down and focus on your role. You state your business to the host and urgently, you’re shown to your table where Mr. and Mrs. Kim are already there. That’s a bad start, no one should ever be late for a meeting with Kim Kwangmin, and by late, that means he gets there before you.

"Mr. Kim, hello." Jongseong's stance is more poised than normal, but you can feel his nervousness. If he cracks this case, he will be the youngest detective to do anything of this magnitude, so you can appreciate what he is going through. In an attempt to reassure him, you swipe your thumb over his arm, which he only feels through his suit jacket. Nevertheless, he’s thankful for it.

Mr. Kim stands and reaches his hand out, “You’re late, Hwang.”

“Apologies, Sir-”

“That was my fault, Mr. Kim. I made him change a few times. Every suit he was trying on was giving last fall, and I said to him ‘Babe, only the best from Mr. Kim’, Isn’t that right, Jjongie?” You don’t know why you took on the persona of a teenage girl who has a tweet count of 20k, but it seemed to do the trick because Kim Kwangmin is laughing.

“The things we’ll do for our girls, eh?” Mr. Kim says and Jongseong awkwardly laughs with him, nodding. When he looks down at you, his expression is appreciative, “Please, have a seat. I’ve ordered some entrees.” The man extends his arm as he sits himself.

Jongseong bows and pulls out your chair for you and as you sit down, he kisses your cheek lightly, the act of service making your stomach flutter.

This is going to be a long night.

And it was. Jongseong is getting nowhere, every time he tries to hint towards Mr. Kim’s dealings, the man just brushes him off, too busy talking about the stock market and other men in suits kind of chats. To be honest, you zoned out about 20 minutes ago, your fork rolling a pea across your plate. You hate business talk, it’s so mind-numbingly dull. Who cares about all of this, really?

“Ah, Jongseong, looks like I’ve bored your little lady,” Mr. Kim points out and it brings you back to attention.

“Not at all, Sir, she just gets a little distracted, don’t you, Princess?” He tries to cover for you, eyes glaring at you.

You giggle and stroke Jongseong’s arm, “I don’t get business talk, I just like the money.” Your fake honesty earns you another laugh from Mr. Kim, he has taken a shine to you throughout the dinner which works in your favour and this is your chance to try and wiggle something out of him, “My baby, spoils me but sometimes he’s so stingy with money.” You pout and Mrs. Kim raises her glass to your statement, clearly understanding your faked pain.

“Tut, tut, Jongseong, we should always spoil our girls.” He reprimands your husband and you nod eagerly, playing your dumb role quite well. If being a detective doesn’t work out, maybe you should try acting.

Jongseong strokes your head and laughs, “I treat her well, that’s why she married me. But I suppose I could venture into bigger waters to make sure she’s well looked after.” Cringe. Jongseong hates to speak about you like you’re nothing but an object, a black hole for his fake money because that’s absolutely not who you are, you’re the complete opposite. You’re strong and brave, and super smart.

“Oh, Kwangie, let’s get them to do the love list?”

Damn, that irritating wife of his. Jongseong had brilliantly set the tone for her husband to explain his inner connections, and she simply had to change the subject to what must only be the dumbest idea you've ever heard. You're not even sure what a love list is, but you don't want to participate.

Despite your inner monologue protesting the very thought, Mr. Kim doesn’t share your displeasement, “What a great idea! I tell you, it makes your marriage stronger than ever.”

Mrs. Kim sees the confused look on both your faces, taking it as her opportunity to explain, “You look each other deep in the eyes, and whisper 3 things you love about one another. If you do it every day, you always see the good in them.” She looks proud as punch, clapping her hands lightly, “Go try it out!” She ushers you both together.

Even if this were a real marriage, why would anyone want to do this at all never mind in front of another couple they’ve just gotten to know?

Desperately searching for a way out from this awkward charade, you turn to your husband for the weekend, only to find him sporting the same perplexed expression. If you two can't pull this off seamlessly, it's a sure bet that Kim will catch on. Throughout the night, Jongseong and you have been playing the part of lovers to perfection, and if the facade crumbles because you can't conjure up one genuine thing you both appreciate about each other, the entire plan goes to shit.

“C’mon you two, this should be easy, what with how you look at one another. Reminds me of a young us.” He looks at his wife and rubs his nose with hers. It’s hard to believe he is one of the scariest men in Seoul.

Jongseong puts one arm over the back of your seat and tugs you closer to him, staring at you, “I guess we could give it a shot, yeah?” Was he serious? The man hasn’t said one nice thing about you ever, and now he’s going to pluck three things out of his ass? This won’t work.

“Y/N, you go first.”

Well, shit a brick and call it Mary. You are fucked.

Jongseong sees your worried expression and shakes his head as if telling you to keep it together. He leans into you, “Make up anything, even if it’s not real,”

Three pairs of eyes stare at you, awaiting your love confessions. What do you appreciate about Park Jongseong? “Um, I think he’s really handsome?” The statement pops out like a question which seems to displease the couple opposite you.

“No, Y/N, start it with ‘I love’ and tell him little things that make you fall in love with him,” Mrs. Kim instructs, giving you another chance.

You cannot fuck it up this time. So you look deep into his eyes and search into him for your history, past all the bickering and agitation. His face softens, knowing this is putting you in an uncomfortable position, and it gives you a line, “I love that he knows when people around him are left out, and he tries to include them in every conversation so they feel seen.”

Jongseong seems surprised by your answer, or more the sincerity of it. It was true though, you did appreciate that about him. One time, you were sitting as the only girl at the table having after work drinks, and not one of the guys included you in any of the banter, and when Jongseong noticed he pulled you into the conversation - albeit it was poking fun at you, but after that, the guys opened up around you.

Your eyes are still glued to his as you rhyme off another one, “I love that, when you’re not being uptight about things, your face loses its contours and you look so soft and squishy,” you laugh and pinch his cheek, “Like right now,” He hadn’t realised his hard shell had fallen as you spoke to him, making his appearance gentle.

Giggling as he shakes you off, demeanour now shy, you think of a final one. This has been a lot easier than you thought, and you think you could probably say more than three now that your brain was on a roll.

“And I love the way you push me to be the best version of myself, even when I think your criticism is sometimes harsh and uncalled for, you make me want to be a better de-, person. I love that the most.”

None of you let up eye contact as Mr. and Mrs. Kim applaud you, thankfully satisfied with your answers. Jongseong’s lips tug at the edges, giving you the first genuine smile of the night. He’s glad you managed to come up with things to keep the pair off your backs, but also because they were real things you liked about him.

“Hwang, your turn. Tell your girl how you feel.” Kim instructs almost like he’s a love coach and you’re his patients. But Jongseong seems to forget that his alias has a different second name because he ignores the man and just keeps looking at you. You swear at one point he does the triangle method but you can’t be too sure.

“Jjongie?” You utter, voice just above a whisper, “Your turn,”

“I love,” He pauses, licking his lips, “I love that you give inanimate objects names, and care about them like they’re real people,” You laugh, recalling your previous events with your beloved Petunia, “In fact, the way you take care of everyone around you, and how you will do anything for anyone, I love that. That’s my first one.”

He sits with the next one for a while, making you nervous, but you don’t have to be, “I love how you put me in my place whenever my ego gets a little big. You keep me grounded without knowing it.”

You smile and pout at the same time, finding his words infiltrating your heart a little. Jongseong takes your hands in his, rubbing your knuckles gently as he finishes his love list, “I love…that you are by far one of the most beautiful people I have ever had the privilege to be around, inside and out.”

Oh, he is good.

The eye contact you’re both still holding is sparking a fire inside you, the warm feeling in your tummy makes you feel electric, like you could do anything. You’re both so engrossed in one another that you don’t hear the Kims leave, whispering how they should leave ‘you love birds to it’.

You don’t know how long you sit there just looking at one another, but you think it must be about 10 minutes before you start to notice how quiet it is at your table. Breaking the contact first, you look around and see the man you’re after is gone, “Uh, Jongseong?”

“Yeah, baby?” He’s still deep in his character, still focused on your side profile.

“They’re gone.” You state, pointing your head to the empty table. This is bad.

Jongseong finally removes his gaze from you to the problem and his face falls. How the fuck did they just sneak out like that? You daren’t look at him because you can already feel the anger radiating from his body. His jaw clenches and he bangs the table loudly, “Fuck!”

Without a word, he stands up and storms out of the dining room and all the way up to your room, leaving you to waddle after him, not used to the heels you’re in. He is pissed, no he’s livid, seething at the fact his opportunity to get the dirt on the man he’s been after for 8 months just slipped away like water in a sieve. How could you both be so reckless? This never happens to him.

He swipes the key in the door and angrily strips himself of his shoes and jacket, not caring about anything other than how he can make this right. Before the door closes, you catch it, stepping into the room and following him quietly. You don’t know the best way to approach him.

“Jongseong, we still have tomorrow.”

“Like fuck we do, Y/N! This was the dinner to get in on his schemes, to finally get something on the guy I’ve been stuck kissing ass to for months!” He runs his fingers through his hair and tugs it harshly, “If you weren’t so fucking incompetent.”

“ME?! I didn’t do shit,” You argue back, offended. How can he blame this solely on you? As if he wasn’t the main part of this.

He spins and points to you, “You did plenty! Why didn’t you just make a load of shit up for that list and get it over and done with? I was doing great on this case before you turned up and ruined it.”

You don't want to fight with him, but you will since that is your true dynamic, not what you were like at the table, which was just a charade. This was the authentic you and Jongseong, “You’re acting like I did this all on my own but you were the one that brought up having a wife in the first place, you made me be here! And then you started making eyes at me when we were doing those stupid love lists, that’s on you, not me.”

Jongseong has veins popping all over his body, his frustration overtaking him like you haven’t seen before. You see him charging towards you before he grabs your shoulders with force, but not enough to hurt you. He shakes you a little, “You drive me fucking crazy, I can’t stand you.”

You raise your voice to match his, pushing him off you, “Fuck you, Park!”

“Fine.” Grabbing the back of your head he pulls you to him, smashing his lips against yours. The action is sudden so it sucks the breath out of you. Were you really kissing Park Jongseong? “You’re so fucking infuriating,” His words are venomous but it doesn’t stop him from gripping your hair and pulling your head back to kiss you deeper.

If you weren’t dizzy from the wine at dinner, you are now. This man is a psychopath, blowing hot and cold, and yet you’re kissing him back with just as much fervour as he is giving, your lips smushing with his.

When he feels you reciprocate, he waltzes you to the wall behind you, accidentally slanting a few frames on the wall. You've never experienced anything like the force he has over you, and you can't get enough of it.

“I’m gonna ruin you like you ruined my case.” He spits, pressing you flat against the wall with his body, the arousal evident.

Driven by a blend of rage and lust, your tongues collided furiously, resulting in a passionate kiss.

Your head is so scrambled that you can’t decide what you want, so you push him off you to give you time to think.

Standing about a meter apart, both of your chests rise and fall heavily as you pant, already gasping for air from the heated kiss. He looks dishevelled, hair a riot and your lipstick smothered over his mouth, it’s only adding to your attraction towards him.

Both of you stand, staring at one another, waiting for the next move. But who’s going to make it?

You could, on the one hand, end this right now and give yourselves a little breathing space. You've brought the emotions from the dinner with you, impairing both his and your judgement. If you leave right now, you can stop this and pretend nothing happened.

But on the other hand, if you move towards him and take him how you want to, it’ll change the dynamic of your relationship forever, and possibly not for the better but could it get any worse? The man just said he couldn’t stand you, what’s one night of throwing caution to the wind, of finally claiming what you desire?

Fuck it.

You practically run towards him, almost knocking him over when you jump on him, arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him down to your level, kissing him just like before, only this time you’re taking control. It’s the stupidest idea you’ll have this year but you couldn’t give two fucks, the taste of his mouth inebriating.

Wrapping one of your legs over his, you grind on his thigh, alleviating yourself of the ache that your clit has suddenly developed. It's calling out to him for sweet relief.

“I fucking hate you,” Jongseong says through gritted teeth, his bulge evident in his slacks.

“Fuck me like you do,” You breathe into his mouth. It’s an odd request, usually, the sex you have is filled with love, or at least tolerance, but this time it’s fuelled by pure lust, it’s intoxicating.

Heeding your consent, Jongseong grips your waist tightly and guides you to the bedroom, all the while his mouth is eating yours. The mix of both your spit in one another's mouths is messy and your teeth are hitting off his, you’re both on each other as if you’re on a time limit. Technically you are because one second too long and someone’s clear judgement will start to kick in and stop this.

Before you throw yourselves into bed, you both have a little issue called ‘clothes’ to take care of first. The gown was nice but he had to see what was hiding underneath.

Reaching for the zip of the dress, he tries to pull it down but it doesn’t budge and he’s too impatient for this right now, longing for your body. After a few tugs it doesn’t budge and he growls, annoyed at this hurdle of inconvenience. He looks down, inspecting the dress to see if he can just pull it over you but he sees a better, more efficient idea.

His hands grip the fabric of your dress at the slit, fingers digging into the material and each side and with a sudden, forceful tug, the threads snap as your beautiful, very expensive gown is torn in half. He uses every muscle in his arms to rip it off you, he’s never been more thankful for hitting the weights 4 days a week.

“Jongseong!” You gasp, annoyed that he’s just ruined your clothes but he doesn’t care, not when you’re standing before him with nothing but your black thong, tits out, and the garter for your gun. He isn’t saying he’s imagined this scenario before, but you’re more gorgeous than he could have ever pictured.

Throwing the torn dress across the room, he makes way for your mouth again, only this time his hands are massaging your boobs roughly. You can feel the grit on his hands, a testament to the hard work of your job, but the scratchiness of his fingertips only makes you weak at the knees, the sensation of him all over your tits was magical.

For a little revenge, and because you can’t wait any longer, you rip open his white linen shirt, buttons consequently popping and flying across the room. He’s kissing you so forcefully you don’t even get to bask in how his tanned skin contrasts the paleness of his shirt, or how his torso is perfectly lean, not too ripped.

You rub your hands all over him as if trying to memorise every muscle and tense abs. The feeling of your hands dancing over him has Jongseong snarling softly as your mouths continue to meld together, “Such a pain in my ass, L/N.”

It’s an invitation to slide your hands down to his ass and squeeze his cheeks and at the same time push his cock onto your core. His eyes roll to the back of his head, his nails digging into you, scraping harshly. You’ll definitely have marks in the morning.

With a determined shove, he propelled you onto the bed, a sense of urgency driving his actions. Jongseong needed you. Now.

Just like your dress, your flimsy thong is torn from your body, the burn of the material being ripped along your skin only heightens your pleasure. You’re laid spread on the bed, waiting for his next move, but when he doesn’t budge, too busy drinking in the sight of you, you need to take matters into your own hands.

Situating yourself on your knees, you undo his trousers and pull them down with his boxers, freeing his hardened cock of the confinements. The mixture of the natural breeze from the room and your hot breath makes him twitch in anticipation, “You want to suck my cock?” You’re so infatuated with his shaft and the veins running along it that you don’t register the mocking tone of his voice which normally you would snap at.

Jongseong grips your jaw so tight your mouth automatically opens. He tilts your head up so you both look at each other, eyes hazed with desire, “Fucking take it, then.”

With that, he’s shoving his length into your mouth, pushing you down until he feels the resistance of your throat. He’s not a monster, he isn’t just going to start abusing your mouth, but he does shallowly thrust his dick a few times, testing the waters. Fueled with rage or not, he’s not going to hurt you.

You on the other hand, swirl your tongue around his shaft as you bob your head up and down, loving the feeling of him filling your mouth. Personally, you don’t mind it rough, and by the look on Jongseong’s face, he’s holding back a little. It’s oddly sweet considering he looked like he could have murdered you 10 minutes ago.

Placing both your hands on his hips, you sink your closed throat around the tip of his cock, pulling him in as deep as he can go.

Jongseong’s hands clenched into fists and grabbed your hair, his knuckles turned white from the intensity of the sensation. He tries to push deeper into your throat, meeting your gag reflex with a groan.

You push his hips out before pulling him back in harshly, giving him a hint of what you want. Fortunately, Jongseong has always been a fast learner, “You want me to fuck your throat, hmm?” You hum around him which elicits a wicked smirk on his face, “Good.”

Rapidly, his hips move on their own, his cock now fucking your mouth and throat raw. It burns in the best possible way, the taste of his pre-cum sliding onto the back of your tongue each time he pulls back makes you moan.

“You look so much prettier when your mouth is stuffed with my cock,” He comments, noting how much he loved the way you looked with your eyes watering and puffed out. You look like a dream, a dream he hopes he never wakes up from.

He holds your head still will both his hands, ass clenched as he fucks into you, mind completely lost in the feeling of your mouth.

Jongseong loves to be in control, not dominant, but his partners definitely know their place, and it’s to be putty in his hands.

What he doesn’t notice is how he actually isn’t in charge, you’re just making him think he is. It was you that decided whether this happened or not, it was you who got him to fuck your throat dry, and it’s you that’s going to make him cum.

Sucking harder, you’re trying to coax him to cum all down your throat, to help soothe the pain, but he won’t let that happen. Yanking at your hair, he pulls you off and you gasp for air, not realising you are losing oxygen.

He almost unnoticeably checks to see if you’re okay, gazing softly into your eyes, but once he sees you smiling, he goes right back to his ways, pushing you down onto the bed and crawling over you.

The way he's confined you beneath him causes your body to arch up to meet him and draw his entire weight onto you; his bare cock accidentally scrapes against your clit, causing your hips to buck up to gain friction.

“So fucking desperate for me. I haven’t even made sure you can take me yet,” He teases, his hips moving slowly to slide his cock between your folds, gathering your slick as natural lube. You’re so wet you don’t even need any help, his cock could slide right in.

“I can take it,” You match his arrogance, not completely sure of the certainty in your words because he’s big, but it’s all to do with his length rather than girth, so you think you can handle it. Plus, you won't ever back down from a challenge set by your work foe.

His face looks a little dubious too, like he doesn’t believe you. You’ll just have to prove it to him.

You smoothly flipped him over on the bed, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. As he landed beneath you, you held him in place, the thrill of the unexpected move adding an extra spark to the moment. It’s a carbon copy of how he pushed you onto the bed before dinner, just with way less clothes.

Not wasting any time you pump his cock a few times and spit on it, mixing the fluids of your saliva and his cum to help him ease into you.

“Fuck, you sure you can handle-” Jongseong’s words stop in place when his cock breaches your entrance as you start to sink onto him, “Holy shit,” He whispers, eyes shut tight as he feels the way you’re hugging his cock, the heat of you travelling to him. You feel sensational.

You start with shallow bounces, not taking his whole length into you just yet, but even just the 3 out of 6 inches you are experiencing are driving you wild.

Jongseong wants nothing more than to bottom out and claim you right here and now but there’s something so satisfying about seeing you struggle to hold your weight up as you ride him. He could have some fun with this.

His hands rub your thighs, one of which moves closer to your cunt. You're too preoccupied to notice, so when his thumb circles your clit, you lose your balance and collapse onto him, all of his cock buried inside you now. The sudden stretch was glorious like you don’t understand why you didn’t just sit all the way on his dick in the first place.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Too full of my cock to keep going?” He comments on your still body. Truthfully, you were just basking in the way his cock is stuffing you while his thumb keeps up the rhythm on your clit, you really didn’t have to move. But he’s taunting you to keep going and you can’t let him get away with it, he’ll never let you live it down if you just sit there. He’d call you selfish or a lone player, whatever else he’s called you at work.

So you start to move, grinding random shapes that would hilt his tip into all the perfect places inside your heat.

Like putty in his hands. He smirks, his tongue swipes his bottom lip as he watches you work for it.

Your hands try to grasp anything that will aid you, but all you have is your hair, which isn't ideal but threading your fingers and pulling at the hairs on your scalp reminds you of how he had an iron grip on you when he first kissed you.

Jongseong has to admire you right now because you’re taking your pleasure into your own hands, he’s basically doing nothing and he thinks you might be close to cumming. The competitive side of him knows what to do because he will be damned if he isn’t pounding you, making you scream his name as you cum.

He fucks up into you, taking over and making you lose the pace you had set. You would complain if he wasn’t hammering into you so good. The moans leaving your mouth are frenzied, calling out for more, which he’ll happily give you, just not in this position.

Cradling your back he sits up and throws you so he’s on top, your head now hanging off the end of the bed, the instant blood rush turns your brain to mush, and all the while he doesn’t stop thrusting into you, each time he moves, it hits a new spot you didn’t know you had. He’s fucking you so good, you’ll never get enough.

Jongseong dislikes the fact that he can't see your face, so he yanks you back onto the bed by your legs, causing him to dig deeper into your pussy. Once your fucked out face comes back into view, he smirks because you’re completely gone, eyes shut as you feel every inch of him.

“Told you I would ruin you, didn’t I?” He grits out, slapping your left tit, causing you to yelp back into the world, your eyes now watering at the sting.

“Not ruined me enough,” You bite back, egging him on to go rougher.

He tilts his head in disbelief as he keeps battering your pussy with his cock, the audacity you have to say that when you couldn’t even speak a minute ago. Roughly, grabs the back of your head and pulls you forward, his forehead against yours as his eyes burn deep into yours, “Say that again.”

Every fibre of your body tells you not to speak another word, but you never listened to yourself anyway, “You couldn’t ruin me as bad as you ruined your case.”

“Fuck you.” He grips your throat keeping your head up and kisses you roughly, his tongue sweeping all along your mouth. Jongseong can only see red because it was you who made him forget about the assignment because it was your eyes he was getting lost in. This was your fault and no one else.

Harshly, he pins you back to the bed by your neck, not squeezing too harshly, but just enough to restrict your breath flow. He saw how much you loved the head rush earlier, so he took that as a sign you would like to be choked while he fucks you.

He was right.

“You know what? I’m going to make my own list,” He breathes out, “My hate list.”

You’re a little confused but you’re too drunk on his cock to understand even the simplest of sentences.

Jongseong begins to snap his hips into you with each sentence, “I hate that you think you’re better than me,” His grip squeezes your throat, “I hate when you suck up to the boss’ ass and stick me in shit when it’s convenient for you.”

You let out a whimper at his brute force, “Jongseong…please,” You try to fuck onto him more, the single thrusts not giving you what you want quick enough, but that only earns you another squeeze of your jugular.

“And I hate that I love how good you’re pussy feels,” Your ears prick up at the twisted compliment, a sense of accomplishment coming over you, “You drive me batshit crazy, and I fucking love it.”

He withdraws his hand from your throat and trails it back down to your bud, now focusing all his efforts on helping you finish.

“I hate that you can’t just admit you like me,” You breathe out, voice hoarse.

For a split second, he stops all his movements, but he refuses to acknowledge what you just said because it’s not true. He doesn’t like you, not one bit…

This was treading into dangerous territory and Jongseong knew it, so he had to end this fast. With one smooth movement, he hoists your back up to arch it and pounds himself deep into you, his balls slapping against your ass due to his relentless pace. He was showing you no mercy, he was showing you how much he hated your guts.

“I’m cumming, Jjongie,” You whine out.

He notices the nickname and, while he won't admit it, he likes it. Only when you say it, or rather how you say it, especially now that you're clenching down on him and cumming over his cock. The way your pussy clamps him causes him to blast his load deep into you, his previously tactical thrusts now hilted so he can fill you up.

Shared pants echo the room as you both sit in the consequences of your actions.

You just fucked Park Jongseong - and you liked it. The mix of anger and desire just added a new level to sex you didn’t think possible.

Abruptly, he gets off you, and his cock slips out of you leaving you feeling a little empty, “I’ll take the couch,” he says, face hard with seriousness. He was just going to leave you like this? Weren’t you going to talk about what just happened?

“Oh…okay.” You say deflated.

Jongseong notices and turns his head to you, his back still in clear view, but he doesn’t utter a word. Instead, he sighs and picks up his case, retreating to the living area of the hotel suite.

You feel a little tacky, not just physically but mentally. You weren’t expecting love and kisses after the sex, but a little ‘That was good’ or even ‘Are you okay?’ would have been enough.

Attempting to push aside the lingering thoughts, you slip off of the bed and head to the shower, determined to rid your body and mind of all traces of his presence. As you retrieve your pyjamas and walk by him, you inadvertently overlook the gloomy expression on his face, like he wants to do more but he already complicated your relationship enough when he kissed and then fucked you, in his mind, it was best just to forget about it.

_____

The next morning you awake with the brightness of the day shining on your face. Your body is sore from the way Jongseong handled you last night. If it was any other circumstance, you would probably be smiling, reliving the best fuck you’ve had for years, but you’re not smiling. You can’t, not after he left you so coldly.

A buzzing from your phone diverts your attention into the real world. You read his name at the top of your phone and you begin to read the plethora of messages from this morning

Park Jongseong

5:12am:

Gone to see if I can arrange lunch with him.

Wear something nice.

5:32am:

Meet us at 11am in the dining room.

7:23am:

I’m sorry for last night.

I was a prick.

You ignore the apology and look at the time, it’s currently just past 10am which means you better get your ass in gear and get ready.

It’s time to be Jongseong’s devoted wife.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jay x reader #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong x smut #aj writes #enhypen x reader #enha x reader

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