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[ugh-yoongi]

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~ ♡

[transformation4life]

Daddy Growth

"Become a real Daddy in minutes with Daddy Growth! Buy NOW!"

Those were the words that brought Dean to his local supermarket. Dean had been trying to bulk up for ages, but just couldn't no matter how hard he tried. The 22 year old was fresh out of college taking freelancing work in art and making it by but just barely. Dean was desperate for any quick solution to his muscle building problem and this product promised fast results he couldn't have driven faster to the supermarket than he already did.

"Is that all?" The cashier said to Dean as he put the bottle on the conveyor belt"

"Yea- WOAH!" Dean was shocked to see that the cashier was JACKED.

"Notice the guns? Pretty weird for someone like me to be working here yeah?" The cashier spoke with his deep voice

"Y-Yea.. a little... And how come they let you wear no shirt!" Dean was getting a little bit flustered as his attraction to guys was starting to show.

"Oh believe me, after this stuff came out dress codes got REAL lenient," He points at the bottle of Daddy Growth

"Wow... I didn't even really notice..." Dean twiddled with his thumbs.

"Don't worry about it, bud. Say... random question but are you a parent?"

"W-Wha? No... I'm only 22!" Dean was shocked to get asked that by a random person let alone a buff one.

"I see... yea good luck with that. Here's your bottle. Have a great day!" The man said with a wink giving Dean shivers.

Dean arrived home shortly after with the bottle in hand a little shaken by the whole experience, but was still determined this bottle will be the solution to all his problems. Dean carefully inspected the bottle instructions: Step 1: Open Bottle

Step 2: Drink bottle all at once

Step 3: Enjoy The Muscle!

Warning:sideeffectsmayincluderapidagingrealitychangingsuddenlybecomingaparentofabodybuildingsonlocationchangeandrealitychange

"Seems simple enough. I can't understand the warning though... Oh well!" Dean popped the bottle open and drank the whole thing in one chug.

"Damn... that was actually pretty refreshing... so now what..." Dean pranced around the room expecting something to happen but a couple minutes pass and nothing did.

"Is this a scam? Did i just spend 20 dollars on a drink? Hell why do I always fall for these kind of thi-" A jolt hit Dean as he clenched his head in pain.

Dean's body began to sweat at a rapid rate as his body began to grow. First to grow was his chest as they ballooned up into two massive clashing meat mounds with sweat adorning their surface. Next to change was Dean's stomach as a sexy set of abs popped in with the sweat making them glisten. Soon after Dean's arms became behemoths in size both having large biceps and triceps and... veins with an accompanying back widening and shoulders prop up! That marked the end of Dean's button up as a loud *rip* led the shirt to fall to the floor. As the shirt fell it was beginning to change. The buttons fell off as the sleeves rescinded and the shirts blue became a white with a black rim until it was the perfect bodybuilder tank top. Letter by letter the words "Better Bodies Gym Issues" appeared with the change finished right as it reached Dean's feet.

The top of Dean's body had their fun so it was the lower half was ready to grow with the thighs as thick as chickens and godlike status were already forming on his legs. Dean's feet growing by a couple inches whole too good thing he wasn't wearing any shoes. Unlike his shirt dean's bottoms held on pretty tightly before becoming elastic and breathable shorts as a direct cut sliced his pants right above his now thick knees as the rough material became more free. The leftover material wrapped around his feet becoming a nice pair of blue and black shoes with the laces tied tightly. Everything about Dean had changed besides his head, but not for long.

The main change began as Dean's body began to age. Wrinkles forming in the face and general gruffness that definitely didn't suit the 22 year old as he became someone in their late 40's as derek gained some stubble and his hair flattened and became slicked to the side with some gray hairs here and there as well. Dean couldn't speak through the whole ordeal as the pain in his body was too much, but it was finally over... right? WRONG

Dean's room morphed into a busy gym in a flash as the pain subsided little by little. Dean was able to snap back to reality as he now realized he wasn't in his room anymore and he was sweating like a bullet... on a workout bench? Dean couldn't even speak as a gold necklace with a cross wrapped itself around Dean's thick neck signifying the end of the changes.

"W-What... happened... to..." Dean couldn't process what just happened. How did he get at the gym and why did he feel sweaty.

Just then he felt something move. It was his new pecs... bouncing.

Dean looked down to see his new BIG and MEATY body in complete dumbfoundery. The drink actually worked. He became a "daddy"! Dean immediately stood up and flexed to the nearby mirror.

Dean looked great and he KNEW it. He did every bodybuilder thing under the book. Flexing, pec bouncing, and touching his muscles. the works and Dean loved every second of it. He felt like a new man!

The fun had to end though when someone walked up to Dean with a look that definitely wasn't friendly.

"Dean. What are you doing here?" It was a sterner older man not dissimilar to one Dean met at the store.

Dean wasn't sure what to say and just looked at the guy and spoke nothing.

"That's all you got to say to me? Your SON has been looking for you!" Wait... Son? Dean didn't have a son, let alone sex! How did he-

"Not to be rude sir, but I don't have a son I just drank this potion and-"

"Don't sir me, young man! I am your TRAINER. Now take off your tank top that shit is too sweaty to show your son!"

Dean not wanting to be rude to his "Trainer" reluctantly removed the tank top in order to satisfy him.

"Now put this on!" The trainer holding a tank with the word Evogen surrounded by stars.

Dean put it on and when he put it on he felt... comfortable in it. Almost like he's been wearing it for the past ten years. Like he...

Suddenly a whole slew of memories came flooding into Dean. Firstly being the 20+ years of life now under his belt, his years bodybuilding, and of course his son. Daniel. Dean always loved how the rascal took after him ever since he was young.

"Wait... no I don't-" Dean fought against the memories but when he saw the spitting image of his son in his mind dancing just like how Dean remembered he would, he felt at ease he somehow helped brought someone into this world.

Xander was a lot like his father. A bodybuilder and knew when to have fun. Dean was proud of him more than any father could ask for.

"Feel better now?" The trainer he now remembered as his longtime friend Ron.

"I'd say... yeah," Dean giving his pecs a firm lift.

And right on cue came Dean's just as big son.

"Hey pops," Xander was sweating from presumably a workout.

"Son! Good to see you! How's... Maria?" Dean randomly blurted out the name, but somehow knew it was related to his son.

"Oh, she's doing great! I'm so glad you were so accepting me being straight dad, you know how you can be sometimes?

"Know how I can be sometimes? What do you mean oh son of mine?" Dean said in a cocky manner before getting into a dance.

"That's what I mean dad! Anyways... ready to workout?" Dean almost already forgot he was supposed to be working out with his son.

Wait... what just happened? How did this all happen? Dean didn't realize that none of this was normal. First he become buff and older and not to mention has a child??? That's not normal in the slightest. Even with the new memories he still he had his old ones, the ones where he was skinny and scrawny and lived in a shoddy apartment, but he also had the memories of his kid and living in a big house. The mix of memories was getting to his head, and yet when he saw his new life and now body... he was fine with this. All this. He's never been a parent, but it won't hurt to try! And this BIG body is a huge bonus Dean can't complain at all. Now the real question is who did he fu-

"Dad? You good? We should head to the machines!" Xander looking at his father with confusion

"Oh! Sorry my boy, just lost in thought. Let's get to work!" Derek gave a confident flex to his son.

"Well I'll see you two later. Have fun!" Ron promptly left to help out other bodybuilders.

This new life was gonna be a bit hard for Dean to adjust to and Dean knew that and his old life was over but he was ready to start anew in exchange for this sexy body.

And so the new Dean waddled his way to the workout machines with his new son and looked as hot as hell doing it. He was a real Daddy now!

[likkolo]

Changbin envies Felix for the fact that he wears feminine clothes so effortlessly, thinking that he could never do the same. The pack shows him he's wrong

(OT8, omegaverse, omega Changbin and Felix, boys in dresses, light angst, body insecurity, chubby changbin, body worship)

🤲

Changbin watches Felix’s eyes light up as he’s presented with another white giftbox tied with a red ribbon. Changbin knows what that box means. Felix has gotten a handful of them already, and it’s always something dainty and beautiful for him to wear that brings out his beguiling omegan charms.

A strappy yellow sundress, an emerald green velvet skirt, a sheer black blouse.

Felix looks gorgeous in all of them, and he knows it.

The entire pack knows it, and the alphas especially know it. That’s why they keep buying him such pretty things and gifting them to him in a white box with red ribbon.

Felix beams as he lifts the lid off the box and pulls out the dress inside. It’s baby pink with embroidered eyelets that will give a peek of Felix’s perfect skin. Changbin has no doubt that Felix will look gorgeous in it. He wants to see Felix put it on right away, wants to have the honor of tying the halter straps in a big bow at Felix's delicate nape. Wants to see Felix giggle in happiness as he turns in a twirl for his alphas.

The dress itself is lovely, but the sight of Felix wearing it will be enchanting.

Changbin looks down at his own clothes—gym shorts and a t-shirt, just like every other day—and can’t help feeling lackluster. He knows his bulk makes him different for an omega, even though he wouldn’t say he dislikes his body. But the pride he takes in his muscles has always been less about vanity and more about the evidence of his dedication and diligence. It’s a physical representation of a hobby that he loves, not unlike Hyunjin’s sketchbook or Seungmin’s lovingly curated baseball card collection. At the end of the day, he’s still painfully aware that his physique is far from ideal for an omega.

That’s okay though, because he didn’t fit the omegan ideal back when he was scrawny either. He’s never possessed the daintiness that Felix exudes so effortlessly. Now at least he has a pack who doesn’t want him to be something he isn’t, who loves him exactly how he is.

The omegan desire to feel pretty is still there though. As is the desire to receive gifts from his alphas, to be fawned over and showered with compliments. To be shown that he’s wanted, desired. Valued.

But his body just isn’t one that can be dressed up in the sorts of things that come in boxes tied with ribbons. He isn’t pretty, and he can’t wear feminine clothes. No one would want to see him in any of the garments that look so natural on Felix.

And yet—

Sometimes he thinks about what it would be like to get a box with a pretty garment inside, to have all his alphas ooh and ahh at the sight of him dressed up in something pretty and feminine. To hold them in a trance as he spins around for them.

He knows it will never happen.

“Bin-ah,” Minho says quietly, his fingers inching towards Changbin's hand. “What’s wrong, bun?”

“Nothing, hyung.” Changbin tries to smile, but the bunching of his cheeks causes a tear to fall from his eye. He hastily wipes it away. “I’m fine.”

Minho stares at him, then seems to relent. He closes his fingers around Changbin's and promises, “we’ll talk about it later.”

Changbin loves his hyung, but he doesn’t expect for ‘later’ to ever come.

That night they all gather in the den, climbing into the pack bed dressed in variations on the theme of pajamas. Changbin shucks his shorts so that he’s just wearing his boxers and t-shirt. He tries not to feel too wistful about Felix’s gold silk pajamas or the gauzy midnight blue kimono he wears over top.

It’s fine. Felix has the sort of body that ought to be adorned in things like that. Changbin, on the other hand, would look silly in anything other than his usual boxers and t-shirt.

Then Minho surprises Changbin by tugging him into his lap and carding his fingers through his hair. “Changbinnie,” he says. “It’s time for you to tell me why you were crying earlier.”

Everyone immediately turns to look at Changbin, frowning in confusion and waiting to hear what happened. “I already told you,” he says, avoiding their eyes. “It was nothing.”

“Something about Yongbok-ah’s dress upset you,” Minho presses.

Changbin glances around, sees brows furrowing at him. 

“You didn’t like my new dress, hyung?” Felix asks, distraught.

“No, of course I did!” Changbin says quickly. “It’s beautiful.”

Minho’s hand comes to rest on his nape. “Then why were you crying?”

It’s not a question this time—it’s a demand. Changbin hunches his shoulders, shrinking in on himself. He’s embarrassed, but he knows Minho won’t let it go until he confesses. “Felix looks so pretty in his feminine clothes,” he says, his voice shaking. “I just… sometimes I wish I could look pretty too.”

There’s silence for a moment, just long enough to fill Changbin with dread, and then everyone begins to talk at once.

“You do?”

“Baby, you’ve never told us that.”

“We never thought you liked that sort of thing!”

“We thought you were happy in your comfy workout stuff,” Chan says apologetically. “I don’t think any of us realized that you had an interest in feminine clothes.”

“I do, but—” Changbin hates that he’s going to have to admit out loud that he wants something so antithetical to who he is. The pack will have to tell him it’s impossible, that those desires are for other omegas who can fulfill the expectations of their subgender. “I know I shouldn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin asks. “Why shouldn’t you?”

Oh, Changbin thinks, they’re going to make him tell them that it’s impossible. He hangs his head. “It just wouldn’t look right on me. It wouldn’t be right for someone like me.”

“It wouldn’t?”

“I’m too big. I’m— not shaped right. I can’t be pretty, so there’s no point in dressing me up in something cute.”

“But, hyung, you’re so beautiful.”

“I’m not,” Changbin denies.

“We all love your shape and your muscles, you know that, right?”

Changbin nods automatically. “I know, but I can’t wear a dress. I won’t look the way Felix looks.”

Jeongin nudges him. “You’ll look like you, and that’s perfect.”

“Hyung will buy you a dress, baby,” Chan tells him. “We’ll get you all the pretty clothes you want and then you’ll see how beautiful you are.”

“No, don’t,” Changbin protests. “You won’t like it, I know you won’t.”

“How could you know that?”

“I just know.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong.”

Changbin sighs in frustration. “Whatever, hyung, let’s just go to bed.”

They let Changbin turn over and snuggle into his pillow, effectively ending the conversation. Someone tries to cling onto him for cuddles, but when he shrugs them off they let him go. Changbin hopes that that’s the end of it. 

And it seems like it is. No one mentions it the next day, or the day after. He notices that they’re a little more complimentary about his body maybe, a little pointed with their physical affection, but that’s it.

Changbin doesn’t think about it anymore, until the next time he sees one of the white giftboxes with a red ribbon. He comes home from the gym and spots it sitting out on the kitchen counter, just waiting to be discovered by Felix. 

He’s surprised by the complicated cocktail of emotions that suddenly twists within him.

On one hand, it’s definitely time for Felix to receive another pretty little gift. Changbin would feel awful if the alphas pulled back on spoiling Felix just because Changbin has issues. But he can’t deny that he really doesn’t want to see Felix open his gift or try on the garment. His heart is still tender, and he knows it would hurt to watch the pack fawn over Felix now that they know he wishes it were him. That he wishes it were him, but knows it’s impossible.

He’s just about to turn away, to go to his own bedroom and pretend to be asleep if it gets him out of having to watch Felix open the box, when he hears Chan.

“It’s yours, baby bunny.”

Changbin turns. “What?”

“The box, yeobo. It’s for you.”

Changbin’s ears burn as he stares at Chan. “Me?” he asks. His stomach feels cold and sour, full of a trepidation that he doesn’t fully understand. “But I said not to—”

Chan takes his hand and kisses his dimpled knuckles. “It’s okay if you don’t like it, or if it doesn’t work out. We just wanted to show you that we think you’re beautiful, and that you deserve to think so too.”

“Okay,” Changbin whispers. He picks up the box, too full of nerves to appreciate the thrill of being given a gift. His fingers begin to tug at the ribbon, but Chan says:

“Wait. Is it okay if the others are here to watch you open it? Or maybe it would be better for us all to go in the den.”

Changbin nods numbly and lets Chan lead him down the hallway. In his pocket, his phone pings with a notification from the pack group chat. Chan puts his phone away, and Changbin guesses that Chan has called for everyone to gather in the den.

As the others filter into the room, Changbin notices that not a single one of them is surprised to see him clutching the giftbox. Pleasantly surprised, maybe, to see that he’s agreed to open it.

Changbin looks around, feeling exposed with seven pairs of eyes on him. “I’m really not sure about this,” he says weakly.

“It’s okay,” Minho says. “It’s just for you to try.”

“You deserve to feel pretty, hyung,” says Felix. “We want to make that happen for you.”

“Okay,” Changbin whispers again, and unties the ribbon.

All he sees when he first opens the box is black. It’s not until he reaches in and pulls the garment out that he discovers it’s a slinky little off-the-shoulder dress, probably about mid-thigh in length. He sees tiny spaghetti shoulder straps, but they must just be there for extra support since the dress also has wide bardot-style straps that should fall just below his delts. In spite of himself, Changbin is pleased when he realizes that the dress will put both his biceps and traps on full display.

Then he sees that it has an open cowl back, and he worries that something so sexy will just make his bulky figure look even more ridiculous.

"We went with something classic and a little cool,” Jeongin explains, “since it’s a vibe that we thought you’d be comfortable with. But please know that we think you’ll be just as adorable in pastels and tulle.”

Changbin hides his face in the dress as a delighted squeal bubbles up from his chest. “Iyen-ah!” he giggles. “You really think hyung is adorable?”

“Of course I do,” Jeongin says. “We all do.”

“Now go try on your dress.”

Changbin rushes into the en-suite bathroom and strips off his shorts and t-shirt. He’s wearing boxers again, so after a moment of deliberation he slides them off as well. Then he tugs the dress over his head, praying that it fits. To his relief, he feels the fabric stretching easily to accommodate his curves. He pulls it down, adjusts the straps on his arms, and looks at himself in the mirror.

Somehow the first thing Changbin notices is his bare face and wavy hair. Felix looks like a forest elf without makeup, but Changbin looks like a child. A scared child, especially with the messy curls hanging into his eyes. But he can’t do anything about that right now, so he forces himself to look down at the dress.

It’s not so bad. Maybe. It is weird to see a little black dress stretched over a built body like his. But at least it looks like he’s wearing it correctly. The off-shoulder neckline even gives him some nice cleavage, showing off about as much of his bosom as a low scoop-neck tank top would. He peers over his shoulder and finds that he seems to have positioned the open back properly. There’s a lot of skin showing, but Changbin is pleased that it actually displays his sculpted back quite nicely. Then he turns to the side and realizes that his whole gut is sticking out.

He turns forward again, only to discover that his belly is actually visible from the front as well. He hadn’t noticed before, but he can see the dimple of his belly button through the fabric and the curve where his lower belly pooch hangs down.

Changbin’s heart sinks. There’s no way he can let them see him in this. Looking weird and too masculine in the dress was bad enough, but looking fat too is just humiliating. Every inch of him is just as ugly as he knew it would be, and he should have known from the start that this would be a disaster.

There’s a knock on the door. “Binnie? How’s it going?”

“I can’t come out,” Changbin says, disheartened. “I look ugly, just like I told you I would.”

“If you don’t mind, hyung, we’d like to be the judges of that.”

Changbin hangs his head. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Okay, but just come out so we can see what the issues are, and then we can look for something that’ll suit you better.”

Changbin sighs, sure that they’re going to keep needling him until he caves. He opens the door a crack and peeks out before nervously shuffling into the den.

He watches all the eyes on him widen as they travel over his body.

“Stand up straight, bun. Let us look at you properly.”

Changbin straightens his posture, awkwardly smoothing his hands over his hips to dry the nervous sweat on his palms. 

No one else says anything. They just stare.

Finally, Minho says, “baby, you look perfect.”

“Shut up,” Changbin mumbles.

“He’s right,” Jisung says. “It’s stunning.”

Changbin huffs. “You don’t have to lie. I know I look weird and fat.”

“You don’t,” Chan says. “Please believe me, Bin. You look so good.”

Changbin takes a handful of his gut. “But look, this dress doesn’t hide my belly at all.”

“You could put shapewear under it if you really wanted to,” Felix shrugs, “but you don’t need to hide your belly, hyung. It’s cute.”

“It suits your personality and the rest of your figure,” Seungmin says. “It’s perfect for you.”

“We like to know that our omega eats well,” Hyunjin adds. “Besides, being strong and soft is literally the sexiest thing you could be.”

Changbin’s ears warm as he takes in the praise. “You really think so?”

“Of course.”

“You look powerful and sexy.”

“So sexy.”

“Really?” Changbin asks.

“Come here and let me show you what I think.”

Changbin reluctantly steps forward, lets them pull him towards the pack bed. Suddenly all seven of them are surrounding him, their fingers scrabbling at the fabric of the dress, their hands running over the planes and curves of his body.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel totally comfortable in this, but think about what you want your next surprise to be,” Minho tells him, as he settles between Changbin’s legs. “Something cute in pastels, like Innie said? Something nice to wear to bed?” His hands run over Changbin’s knees, spreading them wider so that he can push closer. “We can take you shopping if you want. Pick you out all sorts of things.”

“I-I don’t know,” Changbin mumbles. His breath hitches as he feels Minho’s tongue on his inner thigh, as Minho’s perfect nose butts against the hem of the dress. 

Someone else is kissing down his neck, sucking along the slope of his trapezius. They pull the strap of the dress up so they can run their palm down the muscles in his arm. Changbin flexes on instinct and gets a moan in response.

“The weather’s getting warmer,” Seungmin says. “Maybe hyung would like a short skirt.”

A hand slides along his chest, reaching down to cup one of his bulging pecs. Fingers close around a fat nipple and Changbin shudders in pleasure.

“With a crop top,” Felix adds. “So we can see all this sweet belly pudge.”

Changbin starts to shake his head, then gasps when he feels someone biting his belly through the dress. “Ohhh,” he groans.

“Does my baby like that?” Seungmin purrs. “Can we finally rip this dress off you now?”

Changbin nods, hesitantly at first and then more insistent as Minho moves from kissing his thighs to nuzzling further between his legs.

Chan pulls the dress over his head, leaving Changbin fully naked.

“So pretty,” Jisung murmurs, spreading his palms over the expanse of Changbin’s back. “Don’t think anyone could be prettier than hyung.”

And Changbin thinks… he thinks maybe he could believe it too someday. Maybe the dress isn’t so bad after all. Maybe it’s enough to be pretty in his own way.

He even sort of thinks he likes the dress. Still, it’s no guarantee that other garments would suit him. He’s sure he wouldn’t have the range that Felix has to pull off so many different styles. But if the pack wants to keep trying, if they want to surprise him with gifts and make him feel pretty and wanted…

Changbin thinks he could live with that.

Then Minho takes him in his mouth, and Changbin’s mind goes blank.

[musclesaber]

Happy Birthday!

Part 3: 7/20

[Story Gallery] [First Part] [Previous Part]

After a month of Connor's constant growth spurts, Dean takes his big man out to find some clothes that might fit his growing body. But finding clothes that fit Connor might be harder than the pair considered.

“Connor! We’ve gotta go if we’re gonna make the dinner reservations later!” I yelled from down the hall.

“Sorry, it’s hard to get dressed now with all this bulk.” Connor was struggling to shove his arm into one his sleeves as he stumbled through the hallway. Ever since his birthday, Connor’s body had been growing like a weed. Every time he went to the gym, he came home looking bigger than when he left. He’d quickly gone from an athletic build to an amatuer bodybuilder in record time. And while his muscles had gotten the biggest boost of his body, he’d been getting taller as well. Everyday that past, I was having to lean down less and less to kiss his lips. And the already massive dick in his pants has been growing an inch a week it feels like.

“I know, big guy. But hopefully after we go clothes shopping, you won’t have clothes that restrict your movement even more than your muscles do.” Connor waddled over to me and planted a kiss on my cheek. 

“Yeah, just in time for my muscles to be an inconvenience.” He put his arms around me and we walked out the door of our apartment. Getting down to the car, Connor had trouble getting into any car. Even my own large truck was becoming a problem for him. He had to hoist himself up into my truck only to have it lean over to one side once he was in the passenger seat. 

“One of these days, we’re gonna have to get a trailer to haul you around,” I said as he climbed into the passenger seat.

“I can’t wait. The day I can’t fit into a car, you can just put me in the bed of your truck.” Connor smiled and tried to adjust himself to get into a comfortable position in the passenger seat, but he was far too big. His shoulders pressed into the windows and his right arm stayed in his lap. His left arm was spread out across the dashboard and held my thigh tightly as I started the truck. “Besides, I have the sexiest, sweetest, and most perfect chauffeur that ever existed.” Connor tried to lean over to give me a kiss, but his pecs were getting in the way.

“You’re lucky I love that you’re getting so huge,” I said with a smile and I leaned in to close the distance between our lips. Starting the car, we drove off towards the mall. “But we’ve gotta get you something new to wear. I didn’t think you’d outgrow everything we bought you in just a month.”

“I haven’t grown out of everything. Just…a lot of it.” 

“Yes, and the clothes you’re wearing were the ones I had bought that were oversized. Now they’re one wrong move from you tearing them apart.” Connor smiled at that fact and flexed his arm, but the smile quickly faded when they heard a rip from the sleeves. Looking over at me, I saw a giant tear going up Connor’s arm to his shoulder.

“Oops…” Connor shrugged and gave me a bashful smile. “Good thing we’re going clothes shopping.” I stopped at a red light and admired my big husband for a moment then sighed briefly. While he looked twice the size he was at our wedding, he was still the same sweet, goofy, and kind man I fell in love with. 

“We’ll get the biggest size in the store so maybe you’ll be able to fit into it for more than just a month.”

“With the way I’ve been growing, I doubt it babe. I’m not stopping until I’m the biggest man in the world. And maybe not even then.” Connor flexed his other bicep and the sleeve ripped on that side of the shirt too. 

“And when you are, I’ll buy us a circus tent to clothe you with and we’ll travel around the world showing off the biggest man to ever exist.” I smirked and parked the car in the parking lot of the large mall. “I think most of the department stores won’t carry anything that’ll fit you. At least in their stores. The only place I think we’ll find clothes that you’ll grow into is at the Big and Tall store.” I hopped out of the car and pulled my shirt down over my round midsection.

“Okay, but maybe we can at least look over at the other stores for anything I like? Those Big and Tall stores never have anything that looks super cute on me,” said Connor joining me on the other side of the car.

“Anything you wear I think is super cute on you.” I was struggling to pull my shirt down to cover his small belly, but as he walked over, Connor snuck one of his hands under it and slowly rubbed my bare skin. 

“Same goes for you, babe.” Connor felt the firmness under his hand and chuckled a bit. “Maybe we need to get you some new clothes too, my big boy. You’ve seemed to have made some sympathy gains while I’ve been growing the past month.”

“That’s what happens when I’m cooking an entire family’s worth of food, but it’s all just for my ever growing husband and I. And you know I like to snack while I cook.” I grabbed his shirt and tucked it into my pants. “It doesn’t help that you unload into me a few times a day.” I grabbed Connor’s arm and pulled it away from my tummy and under my arm.

“Sorry babe. My libido has skyrocketed ever since I’ve started growing. But you look sooooooo good with a belly. If we weren’t out in public, I’d lean down and kiss it and rub it all day,” said Connor, still reaching for the belly as we made our way into the mall. 

“I know you would. And there will be plenty of time for that when we get home. For now, let’s get you some new clothes.” We walked through the mall and Connor’s size drew a lot of eyes to us. Men and women alike both gawked at the buff man as he hung off of my arm like eye candy. 

Getting to the Big and Tall store, we were greeted by an even larger man. “Hey there guys. My name is Bill and welcome to my store!” said Bill with a big, toothy smile. Even at Connor’s size, Bill outsized the big man by a substantial marker. He was easily 6’6 and with at least 400 pounds of fat on him all packed into a tight gray shirt. 

“Hi there, Bill, we were looking for some new clothes for my husband here,” I said as Connor put his hand up with a smile. Bill looked down at Connor and smiled. 

“Ah I see. Been hitting the gym lately big fella?” asked Bill, nudging his elbow into Connor’s rib cage.

“Oh yeah. And making more gains than I expected.” Connor hit a double bicep pose and the tears he’d made in his sleeves on the drive to the mall deepened. Bill was taken back momentarily as Connor blushed upon nearly ripping his sleeves off.

“As you can see, it’s a bit of a growing problem. We were hoping to get him some bigger clothes that he’d be able to wear for more than just a couple weeks. I just bought him this round of clothes less than a month ago and here we are, again.” Bill’s eyebrow rose up at that statement as he walked around Connor. 

“You grew out of these clothes in a month? That’s gotta be some sorta record,” said Bill pulling out his tape measure. His eyes darted across Connor’s body. 

“Yeah well I’ve had a bit of a late in life growth spurt according to my doctor. It’s rare, but it’s been known to happen,” said Connor, still blushing. “I’ve also been getting taller too so that’s another factor in all of this.”

“Getting buffer and taller? That is a new one for me I must say. At least for any adult I see coming in here. Normally I get that from mothers who are trying to get some clothes for their sons going through puberty. How much have you been growing exactly?”

“Well on my 40th birthday I was 5’7 and about 125 pounds,” said Connor. Bill looked at him in shock. However, considering Connor was now almost 6 feet tall and probably at least 180 pounds of muscle, the shock was warranted. 

“You grew 4 inches as an adult?!? That’s unheard of!” Bill looked down at Connor who had a huge grin across his face. 

“I know. I love it. And it’s not over at all. We think I’m still growing. So we’re gonna need some of your most stretchy clothes for me to grow into.” Bill was utterly speechless looking at the two of them.

“Huh, okay then. Well first let’s get some measurements done and see what we’re working with.” Bill pulled his measuring tape tight and put it up to Connor’s collar. “Do you have an idea of what size you might be?”

“Well this is an extra large. We did some measuring about a month back, but I know for a fact those are out of date,” said Connor as Bill measured him. 

“26 inch wide, yeah if you’re growing as fast as you say you are, that’s not surprising.” Bill threw the tape measure over Connor’s head and held it tightly against his chest. “Wow, you’ve got a 45 inch chest. Been hitting chest pretty often?” 

“No actually. My chest just really likes to grow.” Bill shot Connor another puzzled look then continued on with his measurements.

“What pants size do you typically wear?” asked Bill as he got down on the ground. 

“These days I’ve been wearing 32’s, but they’re getting tighter and tighter by the day. I’d say I at least need to go up to a 34,” said Connor as Bill wrapped the tape around the seat of his pants. 

“Yeah, with a small waist at 35 inches and a bigger seat at 39 inches, we’ll have to get you something pretty stretchy to fit you in. That or I can also tailor clothes specifically to you, but that’ll just be a bigger fee.”

“Thank you for that offer, but anything we tailor to him, by the time it’s done, he’ll have grown out of it,” I interjected. 

“Fair enough.” Bill took his tape measure and almost brought it up to measure Connor’s inseam, but then looked up and gasped at the big bulge staring back at him. “Eh hum, I think I’ve taken enough measurements. Let me run to the back and find some options that can stretch a bit to accommodate your body.” Bill gulped loudly and stood up. “Please feel free to look around at anything while I do.”

“Thanks Bill, we’ll do that,” I said as the big man walked away as white as a ghost. “I think your growth terrifies him.”

“Yeah, or turns him on,” said Connor as we started going through the extensive collection of clothes in the store. 

“So, what looks good babe?” I asked as I fingered my way through numerous shirts hanging on the wall. 

“I don’t know. I told you before, these stores don’t always have the best selections, looks wise.” Connor perused the shirts and pants that were folded on a table with minimal enthusiasm. 

“Come on babe, we’ve gotta put you in something. You can’t just be a nudist everyday at the office or in court.”

“I beg to differ. I definitely would go into court naked. Probably would win more cases that way too,” said Connor with a cocky grin. 

“Haha,” I laughed back at him in a mocking tone. “Here, I’ve seen you wear shirts like these going into the office.” I fished out a plain white button down shirt with light blue stripes running down its length. “You’re wearing an XL right now so here’s a double XL that should fit you a lot better. Take this to the dressing room and just see if it fits.” I handed Connor the shirt and he scoffed a bit. 

“This feels so basic.” Connor frowned and held the shirt up to his torso. 

“Well biggers can’t be choosers,” I said with a chuckle. 

“Just for that bad joke, I’m not putting this on.” Connor shoved the shirt back into my hands only for him to shove it right back. 

“Come on babe. Just try it on to see how the size fits and if we need to go up another one.” I refused to take the shirt back and pushed it, and Connor, towards the dressing room. 

“Fine.” Begrudgingly, Connor took the shirt and walked into one of the dressing rooms. As he put on the shirt, I browsed the selections a bit more. 

Despite his pouting, Connor was right; there weren’t a whole lot of options that would fit him that looked cute. I made my way over to the workout clothes selections and here at least there was definitely clothes Connor would wear. Grabbing a few workout shirts and some sweats, I walked back over to the dressing room. “How’s it going in there?”

“Not great.” Connor walked out of the dressing room and while the clothes did fit him, he wore them like a second skin. “I think if I breathe in too hard, these buttons are goners.” I looked at Connor’s chest and sure enough with every breath he took, the buttons of the shirt fought to stay in place as his pecs expanded. 

“We’ll go up another size then.” I handed Connor some of the workout clothes I had grabbed and leaned in closer to his ear. “Then again, maybe we buy it just so I can see you outgrow it.” I sensually ran my finger down Connor’s chest. As I did this, Connor sharply inhaled with exhilaration from his husband’s touch. In an instant, Connor’s chest puffed out an inch further away from him and with that, the button struggling to keep his chest within the confines of the fabric popped off and flew across the room, hitting Bill in the face. 

“I had a feeling that might happen if you tried on any of our normal stock of clothes.” Connor was turning as red as a tomato when Bill presented him with the button. “Here, try these on for size. They’re better suited for someone with a larger upper torso and a tapered waistline like yourself.”

“Thank you…and sorry about the button. It was an accident,” blabbered out Connor. He hastily took the clothes from Bill and disappeared into the dressing room. 

“We are sorry about that mishap. I’m more than happy to pay for the shirt he damaged,” I said to Bill.

“It’s no trouble at all. Some thread and a needle will have this button back on that shirt in no time. It’s not the first time I’ve had something like this happen in my store. Or to myself for that matter.” Bill stuffed the button into his pocket and stood there with me for a moment before Connor walked out in a new outfit. 

“Much better,” said Connor as he took a deep inhale and exhale. Looking at him, it was a good fit for him. The shirt perfectly hugged his chest giving him a nice pec shelf that jutted out from him. His pants were somewhat snug, but the elastic in them allowed for some mobility. His bubble butt was on full display behind him and his python dick and low hanging balls did bulge out in front of him by a decent margin. 

“It looks great on you babe. We’ll take it and any others you might have in that size,” I said as I hugged Connor and kissed him on the cheek. 

“I’ll get a few more from the back and start ringing them up. And were you wanting to wear that out after your earlier clothing malfunction?” asked Bill as he collected some of the clothes. 

“That'd be great Bill. Thank you for your help. I’m gonna try a few more things on, but we’ll be at the register in a few minutes,” said Connor. “Thanks again for all your help.”

“No problem sir. I pride myself with helping big men stay clothed.”

“Oh by the way, my name is Dean and this is my husband Connor. If you do like helping big men stay clothed, don’t be surprised if we’re back here in a month or two after he’s grown out of these clothes,” I said, extending my hand and shaking Bill’s. 

“Nice to meet you both. And I’m just sorry you’ll be spending so much while you’re going through your growth spurt. Hopefully it’ll stop soon enough,” 

“Hopefully it does,” said Connor with a cheesy smile as Bill walked to the register. “Or hopefully it never does,” whispered Connor into my ear. “Come into the dressing room, I’ve got something to show you.” Connor grabbed my wrist and pulled him through the door into the small room. 

“Connor, I know you’re horny but we can’t do this now…” my train of thought derailed as Connor undid his pants and his bulge FWOOMPed out of the front pouch. Despite how much he was on display for everyone to see while he was in the pants, they had done a good job of compressing it down considering it grew 2 or 3 sizes bigger outside of them. 

“While we’re here, I need new underwear. These poor things can’t hold all my meat. Just look at this, my balls are practically falling out the side and when you whispered in my ear earlier, I felt like my dick was gonna rip straight through them.” Connor pointed out all the flaws with his underwear as I drooled over my husband’s massive package. Connor was packing over 16 inches of cock stuffed down in pants and two baseballs for nuts hanging below it. It was a sight to behold. 

“Fuck babe, and you’re still mostly soft.” That line elicited a small bounce from Connor’s dick. The fact he made his underwear look so small while still being at his smallest size turned the massive man on like crazy. 

“I know. So can we find some new underwear here?”

“Let’s not. I’ll order special ones online. I doubt any store in this mall carries underwear that would fit you babe.” That comment made Connor’s bulge bounce even more in the tiny apparel. 

“You’re just saying that so you can take these off me sooner.” Connor smirked and gave me a long, deep, passionate kiss. “But I’m not disagreeing. Let’s pay for these and get home so you can get these clothes off me.” 

“Actually, I had a fun idea for that. Maybe instead of taking the clothes off, you flex out of them for me?” This time as Connor’s underwear bowed forward, the sound of stretching fabric could be heard as some of the seams strained against the beast. 

“Okay now we really gotta stop before I can’t fit in these pants.” Connor kissed me on the forehead and gave my bubble butt a nice squeeze. “Go pay and let’s get home quick.”

“Yes sir.” I returned the kiss and floated out of the dressing room on a cloud of lust. Excited for all the fun we’d get into as Connor kept growing out of his clothes. 

[copperheid]

So I've recently gained a lot of weight

I got put on medication for my depression. Because my appetite was low and I was a bit underweight for my height my doctor prescribed Mirtazapine

And he told me I might gain a little bit but it should plateau after a while and it shouldn't be anything crazy.

It used to be that I struggled to recognise I was hungry until I was starving, but I rarely got to that point as I would be satisfied with a small lunch and a small dinner so long as I remembered to have them. I didn't have much need for snacks or breakfast.

Now since I started the medication I constantly feel like I'm starving. That painful, ravenous hunger that distracts from everything else until it is satiated, but it's never pacified long. I feel like I have to have breakfast, lunch and a sizable dinner as well as several snacks or else I'll be suffering terribly.

9 months later I've gone from a UK size 8 (US 4) to a UK 14 (US 10) and I've put on 20kgs / 42lbs, and that number is still steadily climbing.

I've started going to the gym to try to burn it off as often as I can, but I just wind up even hungrier after a workout.

I'm currently trying to muscle through it on willpower alone but I feel so awful. Food is literally all I can think about when I try to restrict my intake to what I used to eat. I feel like my whole body is on fire. And it's not working. Even restricting myself to eating the bare minimum needed to function I still see the number climb.

And while I have liked some of the changes that came with the weight gain- like bigger boobs and actually having an ass and hips...putting on weight in my belly has been very difficult to accept. Buying new clothes every couple of months even more so. Seeing the numbers go up on the scale, on the measuring tape and on my clothes...seeing the stretch marks grow in number and intensity day by day...it's scary. I worry it might never stop and I'll become so big that I can't lead a normal life anymore. That I'd need to buy a second seat on a plane. That I couldn't ride a roller coaster. That I couldn't dance. That I couldn't walk.

I worry that people are talking behind my back, saying I let myself go, that I'm ruined now. I worry my partner will stop finding me attractive.

I feel like I never have anything nice to wear because everything highlights my huge belly. I'm constantly bloated and could be mistaken for pregnant if you didn't know me. All my trousers dig in painfully and I heave over the top of them. Shirts are too tight and ride up to show off my pale, rounded skin.

And sometimes I find it sexy, in a strange way. Like my body is changing and growing softer, and soft bodies are sexy...but then the shame creeps in. Like I'm doing something wrong and taboo by finding my own bigger body sexy.

I feel forced to be more feminine than I am - dresses and skirts are the only clothes I feel comfortable in. Everything else digs in too much, shows to much, or adds bulk that makes me feel even bigger. I was never a girly girl - I'm not even sure I'm a girl at all.

I'm going to Japan next week and I had originally planned to buy clothes while I'm there. I had been excited about all the different styles I wouldn't be able to get back in Scotland. Now the idea fills me with dread. They won't stock my size in any of the normal stores there. I'll have to shop in stores with insulting names like Moo Moo Girl and Hey Fatty Boom Boom.

Maybe I'll grow to accept my body with time. Maybe I will even be able to lose the weight somehow. But i don't want to come off the medication. It's been the only thing that's made a dent in my depression and I couldn't stand to lose that. Maybe I could even be fat and happy someday - better than skinny and dead.

I just hope I figure this shit out soon.

[thegatesofsilverandbone]

Alex and Nick were both scrolling through their dating apps late one night, more out of boredom than any real desire to connect. Alex was a 27-year-old engineer, tall and lean with the kind of build that spoke to his occasional weekend runs. Nick, a 28-year-old freelance graphic designer, had a similarly average, straight-laced life—plenty of nights spent gaming or at happy hours with friends, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary. They’d never considered using a dating app for anything other than meeting women, but that night, something strange happened.

A notification buzzed on Alex’s phone: “You’ve matched with Nick!” He frowned, double-checking his settings. Both men were straight—at least, they had been. But the app insisted they were a perfect match, boasting a 98% compatibility rating based on shared interests. It was odd, but after exchanging awkward hellos, they found themselves engrossed in a conversation about movies, hiking trails, and craft beer. They laughed at how much they had in common. There was something surprisingly comfortable about it, and despite the initial weirdness, they decided to keep chatting.

The next morning, Alex noticed something odd as he got dressed. He had a faint dusting of chest hair—more than he remembered, but it wasn’t alarming, just new. At work, he felt unusually confident, standing straighter, engaging in conversations with a boldness that wasn’t typically him. He shrugged it off, attributing it to the good mood left over from the surprisingly nice chat with Nick the night before.

Nick, on the other hand, woke up feeling different in a way he couldn’t quite pin down. He stood in front of the mirror longer than usual, noticing a thicker stubble on his face and his shoulders looking broader. He felt a strange compulsion to wear his favorite flannel shirt, one he typically reserved for colder months. When he checked his app later, it confirmed his profile picture: Nick had always been this burly, with a solid build and a full, neat beard.

By Tuesday, Alex’s gym session was unlike any he’d had before. He lifted with an intensity that surprised even him, his muscles responding eagerly as if they’d been trained for years. The sweat beaded off a chest that was now decidedly hairier. His reflection in the mirror showed a man who looked more like a seasoned athlete than the casual jogger he’d been. His workout clothes, once comfortably loose, now clung a bit tighter.

Nick noticed changes, too, though his were less about fitness and more about his presence. He felt powerful, grounded in a way that didn’t quite fit his usual laid-back demeanor. His shirts seemed snug around his arms and chest, emphasizing a bulk he didn’t remember having. He found himself adding more hearty meals to his diet, and when he glanced at his profile, it showed him in a muscle shirt, flexing casually. The caption read: “Proud bear, lover of good food and great company.”

That night, their conversations took a new turn. There were jokes about cooking hearty meals, suggestions for the best places to grab a beer in town, and discussions about home improvement projects. The topics were oddly domestic, but it felt right.

By midweek, Alex was starting to look forward to his chats with Nick more than he cared to admit. He noticed new, little changes in his apartment: more leather and wood accents, pictures of sports teams, and a few new tank tops he didn’t remember buying. He found himself planning his evenings around these calls, enjoying Nick’s gruff laugh and easygoing nature. His sense of humor had shifted, too—he was quicker with a dad joke, and the banter felt easy.

Nick’s transformation continued as he filled out his clothes more fully, his figure resembling a brawny bear. He felt a growing appreciation for his own body, enjoying how it took up space and commanded attention. He started wearing more bold patterns and taking pride in his appearance, embracing a rugged, earthy style that felt authentically him. His app profile showed him leaning against a bar counter, a beer in hand, a content smile beneath his salt-and-pepper beard.

They decided to meet up on Saturday, agreeing on a restaurant with a patio that promised good food and a casual atmosphere.

By Thursday, Alex found that he was no longer just messaging Nick. The app now had a chat log stretching back months, full of inside jokes and flirty exchanges. He noticed his reflection often—broad-shouldered and fit, with a confident air that felt as though he’d grown into himself. The little aches and pains he’d begun noticing weren’t so little anymore; they felt like badges of honor, signs of a life lived fully.

Nick, meanwhile, couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t the man he saw in the mirror—comfortably hefty, his body a testament to a life of good food and strong hugs. The rugged, outdoorsy wardrobe felt perfectly natural. He was a bear, through and through, and his heart warmed at the thought of his match. He and Alex talked about making dinner together, maybe spending a weekend hiking; their conversations were effortlessly intimate.

By Friday, Alex’s transformation was nearly complete. His body hair was thick, his voice a touch deeper, and he had an undeniable confidence in his step. His memory was a little fuzzy around the edges—he could recall a younger version of himself, but it felt distant and unimportant. What mattered now was his weekend plans with Nick.

Nick’s mind was equally settled into his new life. He admired his rounder belly, the solid heft of his build, the comfort of his cozy, bear-like presence. He checked his app one last time and saw photos of him and Alex at various stages of their relationship: trips, home-cooked meals, and nights spent together.

When they met at the restaurant on Saturday, neither of them felt the awkwardness of a first meeting. Instead, it was a reunion. Alex, now an athletic daddy type with a sturdy, defined build and a charmingly confident demeanor, reached out to pull Nick into a familiar hug. Nick, the burly bear with a warm smile and an easy laugh, melted into the embrace, enjoying the feel of Alex’s firm body against his own.

They ordered drinks, reminiscing over stories that felt both old and new. When Nick took Alex’s hand across the table, it was clear this wasn’t just a casual dinner; it was a celebration of something more. They talked about moving in together, about what they wanted from the rest of their lives. The transformation, now complete, had made them into men who fit together perfectly—two halves of a whole, ready to take the next step.

“I’ve been thinking,” Alex said, his voice low and warm. “Maybe it’s time we make this official.”

Nick nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, I’d like that. Let’s get married.”

And just like that, their new lives—full of memories, love, and a future together—felt exactly as they were always meant to be.

[channiebelly]

ahhhh you got me when i see the minchan… i’m here to request a seokmin and mingyu where they both start bulking to get shredded but get too distracted with how good the other looks bigger and instead focus on making each other big as opposed to losing the weight like intended

gosh, a plump gym bro is the way to my heart. i hope you enjoy! and thank you for the request.

ship: mingyu/seokmin

wordcount: .7k

seokmin and mingyu's new years resolution was to get ripped. they were both already quite toned, the beginnings of biceps and abs already there, but they wanted to get undeniably shredded.

"I think we should do bulking and shredding," Mingyu says on the second of January. "It's where you start by lifting weights and gaining muscle, but also eating a lot. And then after a month or so, you cut down how much you eat so when you lose the weight, you're just left with the muscles."

"Oh," Seokmin says. "That actually sounds quite easy. And I love to eat, so I'm in."

They start immediately. Mingyu stocks up on healthy things like protein powder and vegetables so they have energy to burn at the gym, but also buys fattening things like ice cream and cakes and chocolates.

"If we're going to put on weight, we're going to do it in a fun way," he says.

The diet is successful, and Mingyu and Seokmin enjoy eating as much as they want without any shame. When they go to bed packed full and bloated, they say that it's more energy to use at the gym the next day. And they like that they can do this together. Going to the gym, cooking and eating together gives them more time to spend as a couple.

Their gym goals go well too. Both of them gain muscle in their arms, shoulders and legs, and the amount of weight they are able to lift gets higher and higher.

After just one month, Seokmin can see the added definition in Mingyu's arms. And he can also see the little pot belly that Mingyu has developed. Mingyu has an affinity for wearing tight tank tops, so it's always on display. Seokmin thinks it's so sexy.

Seokmin, on the other hand, is softer. He's also gained muscle, but he's also gained a soft layer of fat on top of it. Mingyu cuddles him a lot more these days; he wonders if it's connected.

Seokmin likes seeing Mingyu eat so well. He always looks so happy after a meal and the way he strokes his fully belly makes Seokmin crazy.

So, naturally, Seokmin decides to help him out.

He makes him heavy milkshakes for dessert every night, not mentioning that he's making them with heavy cream instead of regular milk. And when he serves Mingyu a plate of food, he piles it higher than usual, knowing that Mingyu will eat it all.

They both pack on the pounds quickly, Seokmin not realising that Mingyu is doing the exact same thing to him. He brings home baking from work almost every day for Seokmin to eat, and insists on Seokmin going to a local burger place after almost every gym session.

After another month of this, Mingyu brings up the idea of cutting.

"Do you think we should start cutting now?" he asks as they wash their faces in the bathroom sink before bed.

"It's going to be hard, after getting used to eating so much," Seokmin says.

"It will be." Mingyu sighs. "I like eating like this."

"Me too," Seokmin says. "And you look really good already." He reaches out his hands to trail along the distended slope of Mingyu's belly, which almost looks like a small beach ball now. He admires Mingyu, who's big in multiple ways. Big arms, big chest, big belly. Mingyu shivers under his touch.

"You look amazing too," Mingyu says. He takes one of Seokmin's developing love handles in his hand and shakes it, watching as his belly shakes as well.

Seokmin steps closer so their bellies are pressed against each other. "What if we stay like this then? We're both happy, and we look hot."

"We can get bigger." Mingyu's eyes raking over Seokmin. "I'm liking these," he says while taking on of Seokmin's developing moobs into his hand, brushing his thumb over the nipple. "Wanna see them grow."

Fuck. Seokmin is so turned on.

"I'm in."

[fatfables]

A sample section from my story, Alonzo: A Fat Fable.

Read the full story and more for free at fatfables.com

The Currywurst Incident

In school Alonzo was not the most popular kid, but he did have some friends. The worst of his greed and selfishness played out at home. In school the chubby young boy had to fit in with the others. He had to attend maths and English classes, the same as everyone else. Yes, he was always the first in line in the dinner queue. Yes, he always asked the dinner lady for one extra potato/sausage - which he normally got. And yes, he was always first up begging for seconds or even thirds. But, he was not the only kid in the school to behave like this at lunch times. And for some reason he didn’t mind the teasing from the other boys about his eating habits. Or his soft, round gut that stuck out over the top of his trousers.

The only time that he would really annoy his young friends was in sports class. Now, Alonzo was obviously not the sporting type. He would make up all sorts of excuses, and come in with all sorts of notes for the P.E. teacher to explain away why he couldn’t partake in badminton, tennis, football, or any of the other games that the majority of children liked to play.

In fact it’s probably correct to say that between the ages of about 11 and 13 Alonzo took no part in sports classes at all. He would just sit on the bench at the side of the gym hall with his potbelly resting in his lap, his two year old gym top far too small for him. It clung tightly around his soft chest and rode up on the top of his plump stomach, his soft muffin top rolling out under the sides. His gym shorts were always stretched skin tight around his bulking thighs. For some reason he had never bothered to get new gym clothes that fit. Perhaps it was because he knew deep down that he was never going to take part in any sporting activity ever again. He would just sit there every gym lesson watching intently while the other boys ran around, sweating and shouting until the back of their shorts became wet and clung to their backsides. Whilst engaging in this subconscious voyeurism he would sneakily munch on candy and chocolate bars that he had smuggled into his gym bag that morning.

As an older teenager he seemed to take joy in growing out of his new school uniform. Shirts that fit perfectly in September were bursting open and losing buttons by mid-November. Especially the lower buttons on his shirt which were popped off by his straining stomach after a particularly heavy lunch one day.

For the rest of the year he went to school every day with his soft belly sticking out the bottom of his shirt, his deep navel surrounded by layers of fat, clearly on display for everyone to see. The greedy teeanger was starting to wear his fat with pride. He could always have asked his parents to buy him some new bigger shirts. They absolutely would have done it. Though for some reason unknown to him at the time he didn't bother asking for new clothes. He thought the ones he had fitted just fine. 

One time when he was 17, on a cold January day, he ripped his school trousers open at the back whilst bending over to pick up a chip from the ground that had dropped from his little wooden takeaway fork.

This was outside the local pizzeria/kebab house that you find in every German town. Alonzo and his friends were now old enough to leave the school premises and buy their own lunch. Alonzo’s favourite was Currywurst and chips - big fat frankfurter sausages smothered in mountains of curry sauce with masses of chips on the side.

Tariq the young son of the Turkish owner knew Alonzo by name as he was just about their best customer. The good looking young Turk always made sure to give Alonzo extra sides and bonus large portions in order to keep the gluttonous teenager coming back to the restaurant everyday.

Tariq would make comments about Alonzo’s size and smile at him through his deep brown eyes, teasing him about his weight while enabling him to keep gaining fat at an exponential rate. Alonzo was blissfully unaware of any ulterior motives, he just thought that Tariq liked him.

So the chip fell on the floor, and in his haste not to waste a single gram of food, Alonzo bent down to pick it up. His wide chunky buttocks were already pushing out against the tight cloth of his tailored school trousers. The same ones he had struggled to button up that morning as he’d sucked in his huge bulging stomach. The same trousers that he was wearing with no underwear underneath, having given up on wearing boxer shorts just before Christmas. All his underwear was at least two sizes too small for him nowadays, and regardless going commando gave him a funny tingly feeling that he liked.

He liked that he was naked under those tight trousers. He liked the thought of his soft fat flesh being more open and accessible. He liked this even though his school trousers had been digging uncomfortably into his midriff all morning while he sat through two and a half hours of tedious biology lessons about the digestive system and the need to eat a balanced diet.

So as he bent over he heard a ripping noise as his tight trousers split across the seam that ran perfectly up between his two plump heavy round swollen buttcheeks. He went red in the face as his friends pointed and laughed at his fat bare ass sticking out in the middle of the busy street.

Tariq came running out of the restaurant to see what all the commotion was about. Upon seeing Alonzo’s fat naked flabby ass he stopped and smiled. Alonnzo looked up at him and met his beautiful deep brown eyes with his own blue eyes and smiled back. It was at that very moment when the two young boys looked into each other's souls that Alonzo realised that his swollen fat ass wasn’t the only thing that had caused his trousers to burst open. He was carrying the biggest boner in the front of his broken trousers. It was as clear as day for all to see. His solid young dick sticking proudly up, poking him in the underside of his heavy bloated gut.

Alonnzo laughed, Tariq laughed. The momentary shame that Alonzo had felt washed quickly away and was replaced with a real sense of pride. He was a greedy, lazy, sexy, fat fuck and he loved it!

His friends stared with amazement, completely nonplussed at the sight of their fat friend now semi-naked in the street, his arsehole and hard cock proudly on display for everyone to see. Alonzo’s belly was heaving up and down as he struggled to calm his laughter. As he regained his composure he sat his heavy bulk down on a bench by one of the tables outside the fast food place. The bench creaked under the weight of his fat naked ass. He then continued to eat his lunch with even more vigour - as if nothing strange had happened. 

As he bit greedily into a sausage Tariq pointed over the road and said  “Who are those two girls?” 

It was Alonzo’s sisters. They had seen the whole debacle and were standing with gaping mouths wide open staring at their fat embarrassing brother. Their faces pale and eyes aghast at the horrifying scene that they had just witnessed. As Alonzo took them under his gaze he smiled broadly and felt his hard cock and arsehole twitch. Fuck those evil cunts he thought to himself as he finished off the last calorific curry smothered sausage and wiped the sugary sauce off his plump greedy lips. Only Tariq noticed the brief look of sheer joy and ecstasy on Alonzo’s sweet, fat, round face.

[eyebeastposts]

Halloween Prompt 93

Prompt: A girl mistakenly buys a men's Neanderthal costume, and ends devolving and changing gender.

           With the party only a few hours away, Erina begrudgingly began to put on her costume. Though the necklace of fake animal bones around her neck and the leopard pattern loincloth were what she was hoping for, the lack of anything to cover her chest area reminded her that she had accidentally picked up a cave-MAN outfit in her rush to get something to wear for the party. Sliding her fingers across her chest as she pondered covering up her bosom with bandages accidentally bumped her hand against a weird, eye shaped pendant in the middle of the necklace that sent a spark of energy through her body.

           Erina no longer had to consider binding her chest as she watched her breasts dissolve away to leave only a set of toned pecs. Similar changes spread through the rest of her body, bulking up her dainty limbs to make it look as if she had spent all of her free time working out in the gym. Feeling her jaw become more squared and her forehead widen, she flicked around her grungy, black hair as her thick fingers poked at her muscular form.

           Her frantic searching stopped as her hand pressed up against her groin and felt a girthy cock accompanied by a set of heavy testicles. The sudden jolt made her release a guttural groan that seemed to throw away most of her higher thinking. Bending over with a hunched back, Erina began to walk along the floor on her knuckles until she managed to make her way over to the mirror.

           Mistaking his reflection for a rival caveman, the newly created En let out a primal growl. By the time he managed to figure out how a mirror worked, Erina’s phone alarm went off to signal that the party was about to start. Smashing the device with a smack of his fist, En scratched his head in an attempt to figure out what to do next. Hearing a series of loud yells coming from the large hut outside with glowing holes, En began to lumber towards the party in search of food and a proper mate.

[gymmanufacturersworld]

Abdominal machine Manufactures in india

Need to take your well-being to a higher level? Provided that this is true, it is smart to set up a couple of wellness based devices. There are things you can buy and start to utilize that will, undoubtedly, assist with taking your wellness and nourishment step up a score.

While none of these are vital for begin getting results, they will assist you with going above and beyond.

How about we take a gander at the top well-being helping devices to consider…

A Wellness Tracker. The main extraordinary device to contemplate is a wellness tracker. There are various choices accessible for these Gym equipments manufactures in delhi, and you basically wear them on your body as you move around all through the day.

By the end of the day, you can perceive the number of steps you that have taken, the number of calories you that have consumed, and some even let you know how well you are dozing.

While this ought to be all taken as an assessment just, it actually gives you a brilliant look into how you are moving and how you should do greatest body weight control.

A Food Scale. Then, likewise investigate buying a food scale. It is indispensable you are gauging and estimating the food varieties you are eating consistently as this will assist you with getting a firm evaluation of exactly the number of calories you that are devouring.

A food scale will assist with removing the mystery from fat misfortune since when you utilize one, you will know precisely where you stand in regards to your energy consumption. Frequently the individuals who neglect to see weight reduction improvement do so in light of the fact that they are not precisely following their food admission.

Skin Calipers. The third instrument to establish is a couple of skin calipers. These are great for surveying your general body sythesis without utilizing restroom scales. Washroom scales, while supportive on occasion, can give you misdirecting data as it doesn't consider fit bulk versus fat mass. Furthermore, it is basic you know the distinction.

Regardless of whether you are not prepared to utilize skin calipers, you can in any case get a very decent assessment of where you wait there patiently, utilizing a set.

Strolling Shoes. At long last, the last instrument is a fundamental one - strolling shoes. The more you walk, the more you lose. Try not to misjudge the advantages of strolling over the course of the day. It is significant you are moving more Gym equipments brands in india all through the day and having a decent sets of strolling shoes on can go far to empower this.

Do you have these four devices set up in your program? On the off chance that not, right now is an ideal opportunity to get them, so you are augmenting your outcomes.

In spite of the fact that overseeing Type 2 diabetes can be extremely difficult, it's anything but a condition you should simply live with. Simplify changes to your day to day daily practice - incorporate activity to assist with bringing down both your glucose levels and your weight.

Syndicate Gym Industries professional Gym equipment manufacturers in India. Wide range of Strength Equipments or Gym machines with accurate bio mechanics. WhatsApp & Mobile: 09316970498 Our Website: www.gymmanufacturer.com

[muslimthreads]

Unveiling Comfort and Style: Exploring Black Heather and Indigo Blue Hoodies

Originally only sports apparel, hoodies have evolved into mainstays in everyone's wardrobe because they provide a mix of comfort, adaptability, and modest appeal. Originally limited to gyms and running tracks, hoodies are now both streetwear and high fashion collections, showcasing their global appeal and ongoing popularity. Examining the fashionable worlds of the black heather hoodie and the indigo blue hoody, this article shows how these pieces mix utility with design.

Black Heather Hoodie: A Staple for All Seasons

With its subdued texture and classic hue, the black heather hoodieﾠis a great layer for many combinations. Its adaptability is unparalleled whether worn under a jacket in the cooler months or over a tee on a warm evening with the breeze. Different from a regular black hoodie, the heather texture gives a distinctive visual appeal that can easily move from a casual but laid-back coffee run to a more formal environment without missing a beat.

Comfort Meets Durability

One cannot talk about the black heather hoodie without stressing its comfortability. Made from a combination of fabrics, sometimes including cotton and polyester, this hoodie is meant to provide warmth without the bulk, guaranteeing durability and simplicity of care. Perfect for people who appreciate a lifetime in their clothes, the fabric composition also lets air flow, which makes it a great choice for different temperatures.

Indigo Blue Hoodie: The Bold and the Beautiful

One vivid alternative to more neutral colors is the indigo blue hoodie. Its rich, deep blue color perfectly reflects the core of indigo dye, which has been prized for ages in many civilizations for its depth and permanency. ﾠBuy indigo blue hoodie online USA gives access to a spectrum of tones suited for anyone who wants to add a burst of color to their clothing.

Online Shopping for Indigo Blue Hoodies

Online buying's ease lets everyone pick from a large selection of indigo blue sweatshirts with only a few clicks. From light summer designs to thicker, winter-ready models, the web marketplace provides a range of choices meant to satisfy different consumer wants and tastes. When you Buy indigo blue hoodie online USA, you are also likely to come across reviews and ratings that can help guide your purchase choice, so ensuring that you get a hoody that fulfill your expectations in both style and quality.

Sustainable Fashion Choices

Selecting a black heather hoody or buy indigo blue hoodie online USAﾠfrom a reliable provider also presents chances to promote environmentally friendly design. From the procurement of resources to the packaging of the finished goods, many brands today center on environmentally friendly methods. This change guarantees that consumers may feel good about their purchases as they are helping to create a better globe, therefore benefiting the surroundings.

Conclusion

The black heather hoody and the indigo blue hoodie are monuments to classic elegance and comfort in a society where fashion and utility sometimes collide. Whether you're looking for a dependable, fashionable choice or to update your casual wear, muslimthreads.shop offers a wide assortment where sustainability meets style. Perfect for accentuating any outfit, these high-end hoodies offer comfort as well as a trendy look.

[essentialsshoodie]

Buy Fear of God Essentials Hoodies and Streetwear 

The Essentials hoodie stands out in today’s fashion world. Many people consider it a must-have in their wardrobe. It combines comfort, style, and versatility in a way that appeals to everyone. This hoodie is more than just a piece of clothing. It represents a lifestyle that values simplicity and practicality.

Material and Comfort

The Essentials hoodie uses high-quality materials. Designers choose a blend of cotton and polyester to ensure comfort and durability. The cotton gives it a soft feel against the skin, while the polyester adds strength. You can wear it all day long without feeling uncomfortable. The fabric breathes well, so you don’t overheat, making it perfect for any season.

Style and Versatility

The design of the Essentials hoodie is simple but stylish. It comes in neutral colors like black, grey, and beige. These colors make it easy to pair with other clothes in your wardrobe. Whether you’re wearing jeans, joggers, or shorts, the hoodie complements your outfit. The fit is relaxed but not too loose, so it flatters all body types. essentialshoodiestore.us

Everyday Use

You can wear the Essentials hoodie for almost any occasion. It works great for a casual day out, a gym session, or even a quick run to the store. The hoodie has practical features that make it more than just stylish. The kangaroo pocket in the front allows you to store small items like your phone or keys. The adjustable drawstring lets you tighten or loosen the hood as needed, giving you a personalized fit.

Easy to Layer

One of the best things about the Essentials hoodie is its ability to layer. You can wear it under a heavier jacket when it’s cold or over a t-shirt when the weather is mild. This makes it a versatile piece that you can use throughout the year. The lightweight material ensures that it doesn’t add bulk when you layer it with other clothing.

Popularity

The Essentials hoodie has become very popular, especially among younger people. The rise of streetwear fashion has played a big role in this trend. Many celebrities and influencers have been seen wearing this hoodie, which has increased its appeal. People love it because it offers high quality at an affordable price. You get the luxury feel without breaking the bank.

Care Instructions

Taking care of your Essential hoodies is easy. You should wash it in cold water to keep it from shrinking. Tumble dry it on low heat to avoid damaging the fabric. By following these simple steps, you can keep your hoodie looking new for a long time.

Pricing and Availability

The Essentials hoodie is affordable. It usually costs between $60 and $100, depending on where you buy it. You can find it in many stores, both online and offline. It’s available on popular shopping websites like Amazon and in department stores like Nordstrom.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the Essentials hoodie is more than just a fashion item. It’s a comfortable, stylish, and versatile piece that fits into any lifestyle. Whether you’re dressing up or down, this hoodie is a reliable choice that won’t let you down. https://essentialshoodiestore.us/

[pargolfsupply]

5 Wonderful Imprinted Golf Items To Select as Gifts

Giving away golf balls with a beautifully imprinted logo and a tagline of the giver can be the perfect way to attract instant attention. Admittedly, an avid golfer will cherish such a gift and would not be averse to thanking the giver in any manner possible. This is good news for small companies hoping to be recognized within a community, town, or city. While this makes excellent business sense, the recipients also cherish the promotional items to encourage sports or any event held at the local school or gym. There are many other imprinted golf items to consider distributing, whether for business promotions or as personal gifts.

Connecting with a company that has already made a name is selling such specialized items is necessary. Such companies also handle personalization requests that create imprinted items solely for a customer. While a rule of thumb is buying in bulk, many companies are also open to producing custom golf balls and other golfing items for the right price.

Some of the most popular imprinted items that are sure to bring a wide smile to the lips of a skilled golfer or an amateur include the following:-

1. Titleist Golf Cap- This is a classic golf cap with the Titleist logo imprinted on it. The recipient is sure to feel proud when wearing at a golfing event. The perfect accessory for golfing enthusiasts, this item has remained hugely popular since the Titleist logo began to be seen on superior golf balls.

2. Groove Belt- It is not surprising to find men well past their prime during their time at the golf course. It may be the right time to gift a groove belt to the man of the house replete with the name and an honorific imprinted on it. A usable gift that never ceases to please the consumer

3. Golf Glove- There can never be too many gloves for a golfer who likes to spend time teeing off. A quality glove that stretches and breathes can be healthy for the hands and protective at the same time. Imprinting it with a logo or a name can enable one to hold onto it for years

4. Putter- This is an ideal gift for corporates, especially those who love to make business decisions on the putting green. Using a durable putter that lives up to its brand and is imprinted with the right logo can help one in every sphere of life.

5. Golf Balls- Sure, this is a ubiquitous choice when one is concerned about giving a golfing gift to a loved one or a business associate. The imprinted logos are too many for comfort, spoiling the giver for choice. It is best to select quality golf balls that indicate professionalism and success. Wait! It does not have to be a single golf ball, either. One can easily gift a set of balls or ones with special features.

Marking the exact spot of the golf ball is done with a marker that is tiny in size. Most golfers prefer custom golf markers that may be engraved or colorful discs.

[forbro]

Choosing the Perfect Trackpants: A Comprehensive Buying Guide

In the fast-paced world we live in, comfort is key. Whether you're hitting the gym, running errands, or lounging at home, the right pair of trackpants can make all the difference. With an overwhelming number of options in the market, finding the perfect trackpants can be a daunting task. Fear not, as this comprehensive buying guide by Forbro will walk you through the essential factors to consider, ensuring you make an informed decision.

Fabric Matters: Optimal Comfort and Durability

The foundation of any great pair of trackpants lies in the fabric. For a perfect blend of comfort and durability, look for options that utilize high-quality materials such as cotton, polyester, or a combination of both. Cotton provides breathability, while polyester adds elasticity and enhances the overall durability of the trackpants. A blend of these materials ensures a soft feel against your skin and long-lasting wear.

Pro Tip: Check for moisture-wicking properties if you plan to engage in intense physical activities. This feature keeps you dry and comfortable by pulling moisture away from your body.

BUY NOW

Fit and Style: Striking the Right Balance

Choosing the right fit is crucial for both comfort and style. Whether you prefer a relaxed fit or a more tapered look, it's essential to strike the right balance. A loose fit allows for maximum comfort during casual wear or workouts, while a tapered fit adds a touch of style without compromising on comfort.

Consider the type of activity you'll be engaging in. For workouts, a slightly loose fit provides flexibility, while a more tailored fit may be suitable for casual outings. Ultimately, the perfect trackpants seamlessly combine functionality and style.

Waistband and Drawstrings: Customized Comfort

The waistband is a critical component that directly impacts the comfort and fit of trackpants. Opt for an elastic waistband with an adjustable drawstring for a customized fit. This not only ensures the pants stay in place during physical activities but also allows you to adjust the tightness according to your preference.

Pro Tip: Look for trackpants with a wide, elastic waistband to distribute pressure evenly and prevent discomfort.

Pockets: Convenience at Your Fingertips

Pockets are often an overlooked feature, but they can significantly enhance the practicality of your trackpants. Whether you need a secure place for your phone during a jog or simply want a spot to keep your hands warm, well-designed pockets are a game-changer. Look for deep, functional pockets without adding unnecessary bulk to the pants.

Quality Stitching: Ensuring Longevity

The devil is in the details, and in the case of trackpants, quality stitching is a detail that should not be ignored. Inspect the seams and stitching for durability, as this directly affects the lifespan of your trackpants. Double-stitched seams are a sign of superior craftsmanship and can withstand the wear and tear of regular use.

Pro Tip: Check for reinforced stitching in high-stress areas such as the crotch and knees for added durability.

Elevate Your Comfort with Forbro Trackpants

In the quest for the perfect trackpants, it's clear that several factors come into play. The right fabric, fit, waistband, pockets, and stitching are all crucial elements that contribute to the overall comfort and longevity of your chosen pair. By keeping these considerations in mind and exploring the diverse range of trackpants offered by Forbro, you can confidently make a choice that aligns with your lifestyle.

Forbro, a brand committed to excellence, offers a curated collection of trackpants designed to meet the highest standards of comfort and style. Elevate your everyday wear with Forbro's trackpants – where quality meets comfort seamlessly.

In conclusion, the journey to finding the perfect trackpants may seem overwhelming, but armed with the knowledge from this comprehensive buying guide, you're well-equipped to make a decision that aligns with your unique preferences. Trust Forbro to deliver the comfort and style you deserve, ensuring your trackpants not only meet but exceed your expectations. Choose Forbro for the perfect blend of quality, comfort, and style in your trackpants purchase.

[modestlittlefish]

Finding Modest Swimwear on a Budget: Affordable Options for Modest Swimwear

In recent years, modest swimwear has gained popularity among individuals who prioritize both style and coverage. Whether for religious or personal reasons, many people are in search of modest swimwear that doesn't break the bank. Fortunately, you don't have to sacrifice your budget to find modest swimwear that suits your needs. In this article, we will explore affordable options and strategies for finding Modest Swimwear Cheap without compromising on quality or style.

Online Retailers Offer Variety and Savings

Online retailers are a goldmine for budget-conscious shoppers seeking modest swimwear. Websites like Amazon, eBay, and AliExpress offer a vast array of options at competitive prices. With just a few clicks, you can browse through a diverse selection of modest swimwear designs and compare prices to find the best deals.

Discount Stores for Budget-Friendly Finds

Discount clothing stores such as Ross, T.J.Maxx, and Marshalls are excellent places to score affordable modest swimwear. These stores often carry swimwear collections at prices significantly lower than those found in traditional retail outlets. Keep an eye out for seasonal sales and clearances to maximize your savings.

Hunt for Clearance Section Bargains

Shopping smart means checking out the clearance sections of both online and brick-and-mortar stores. Retailers regularly mark down swimwear as the season draws to a close, making it the perfect time to snag modest swimwear at a fraction of the original price.

Secondhand Stores: A Thrifty Treasure Trove

Thrift stores and online thrift shops, such as ThredUp or Poshmark, are treasure troves for budget shoppers. You can find gently-used modest swimwear options that are both cost-effective and sustainable. Plus, secondhand shopping allows you to discover unique styles that might not be readily available in conventional stores.

Local Outlet Stores Offer Discounts

Outlet stores of well-known swimwear brands are another budget-friendly option. These outlets often carry previous season's collections at substantial discounts, allowing you to enjoy quality modest swimwear without the hefty price tag.

Take Advantage of Sales and Promotions

Mark your calendar for special sale events, especially during holidays like Memorial Day, Labor Day, or Black Friday. Many retailers offer significant discounts on swimwear during these occasions, making it an ideal time to grab a bargain.

The Thrill of Coupon Codes and Promo Offers

Keep an eye out for coupon codes and promotional offers on retailer websites. You can also use coupon aggregator websites like RetailMeNot or Honey to discover hidden discounts, making your modest swimwear purchase even more affordable.

Support Local Boutiques

Exploring local boutiques in your area is a fantastic way to find affordable modest swimwear while supporting small businesses. These boutiques often offer unique and reasonably priced swimwear options that cater to a variety of modesty preferences.

DIY Modest Swimwear

For those with sewing skills, consider making your own modest swimwear. Sewing patterns and fabric are typically more cost-effective than purchasing pre-made swimwear, and you have the added benefit of creating a custom-fit piece.

Wholesale and Bulk Orders for Family or Group Purchases

If you're buying modest swimwear for a group or family, consider purchasing in bulk or from wholesale suppliers. This can result in substantial savings per unit and provide everyone with budget-friendly options.

Handmade Swimwear on Online Marketplaces

Websites like Etsy feature handmade swimwear options from independent sellers. You can often find unique, affordable pieces crafted with attention to detail and quality materials.

For More Info:-

Modest Swimwear for Girls

Modest Gym Wear for Women