#holidayatbathhouse

[kithtaehyung]

fireworks (3tan) | myg

title: fireworks pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  rating/genre: pg ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au, new years ; angst summary: both you and yoongi hit up the same cul-de-sac for new years, and realizations flood in - one of them being that you really can’t do fireworks.  warnings: house party, pining, alcohol consumption, weed mentions, angst.. i mean yeah lol there’s angst but don’t hurt me!, fuckboi!yoongi is a warning in itself note: surprise! i got this idea while ringing in the new year (and it’s incredibly fitting since i also started 3tan on january 1st, 2021.) if you haven’t gotten around to three tangerines yet, i highly encourage you to read that first since this is from the same universe :D it would make more sense!  event: ❅ holiday in handcuffs ❅ hosted by @bangtanbathhouse​ ⤖ spaces: I5, J5, G9, H9, I9 word count: 4.1k drop date: january 3rd, 2022, 9:27pm est  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

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Around you, the crisp winter air is different, and not solely because of sparks and drifting smoke. 

You’re smiling with your friends as they take pictures to commemorate the end of a shit year. All throughout the neighborhood, multiple people are out and about, mingling on lawns or sitting in their garages to enjoy the flashes of color painting the sky. 

Like everyone, you find yourself having a good time, though you didn’t expect much since this past year had not been the best. Between fallouts and failures and unexpected events, you never want to revisit the last three hundred and sixty five days ever again. 

Except for one. 

One day that you absolutely will go back to—time and time and time again.

And, in a turn of events, the one person you shared it with is currently at this same block party. 

You heard from your brother that they were hitting up the same place, so you knew Yoongi would be there. But that knowledge still didn’t stop your heart from jumping whenever you caught sight of him, jacket sleeves rolled to his elbows and Nikes standing out on concrete. 

So now, mingling in front of a house two doors down, you sneak glances to catch any sight of him. Wondering how he’s enjoying himself tonight. 

For the most part, he’s drinking with your brother and a few other guys. People come up to them intermittently and he’s quick to dap them up or give side hugs to the ones that look especially happy to see him. Witnessing those again, you huff out a tiny laugh; it seems like nothing has changed. 

But holy hell, he looks good. It’s a damn shame you won’t be able to have the same amount of contact as the last time you saw him. Maybe never again, in fact. 

You try not to think about that. 

Suddenly, a shout of your name rings across the cul de sac, and you turn your head to see a couple more of your childhood friends stumbling their way over. 

Oh, shit! You haven’t seen them in forever! Delighted, you scamper to the edge of the sidewalk, getting crushed in a hug before you can even say hi. 

“What the hell! I didn’t know you’d all be here.”

“Are you kidding? Everyone’s here.”

“So good to see you!”

You engage in conversation for a bit until you realize they are way too tipsy already, so you tell them to get their asses inside, earning protests and giggles. As they walk into the open house, you smile at their bouncing shoulders and thrown back heads. It really is nice to see familiar faces. 

But another familiar sight has you faltering as you turn.

The same couple houses down, Yoongi stands with a drink in his hand. 

And it’s more than obvious that his eyes are on you. 

Temporarily thrown, you don’t know what to do. Do you wave? Do you ignore him? Wait, why is his gaze so obvious! Can’t other people see you? Why can’t you just pick something! 

Finally deciding with a gulp, you lift your hand in a slight wave, earning a lazy arm raise back. 

Oh, god. Why is that gesture enough to destroy you? You need to go before you look like an idiot. You probably already do! Go, go, go. Now. 

Panicked, you spin on your heel, fast walking into the house without a single glance over your shoulder. 

————

You’re able to effectively avoid Yoongi for most of the night. But when the countdown is nearing and everyone shifts outside to set off fireworks, you realize that you’ll be out in the open with him again. 

With liquid courage, you face your jitters head-on. Laughing, joking, and teasing with your friends always serves to distract you from the lows of life anyway. Tonight is no different. 

It’s a new year, a clean slate. Everything will be left behind and dissipating like the explosives cracking above your head. 

However, you start to realize that the sounds and bursts are a little too much. Or it’s the fact that some of the guys aren’t too careful with the boxes and tubes, which makes you afraid one of them will tilt and fire in dangerous directions.

So you excuse yourself to retreat. But what’s your plan? What will save you from embarrassment? 

Champagne. You want champagne for the new year! Obviously. Perfect. 

When you wander into one of the houses away from your friends, you realize that this one is cleared out—save for a few that chose to stay inside to smoke. Stepping through an open foyer, the music that washes over you is chill, tonight’s live broadcast fainting slipping through old school hip-hop. 

You find the kitchen easily, happy that it’s still relatively stocked with bottles and cups and empty, shallow plastic containers. Nice. It would’ve been annoying to walk next door. 

Leaning against the counter, your slightly buzzed hands find a bottle of champagne and a cup you hope is unused. The current song has you humming along, pouring without thinking and enjoying the quick moment of silence in a bustling night.

Until you hear a muffled laugh that clenches your chest. 

Flinching, you cease pouring your drink before you hear a door open and a bunch of guys burst inside. Surveying to the group, you recognize most of them as your brother’s friends, but your eyes snap to the one you absolutely know the most. 

You flash a smile as they greet you and throw obligatory happy new years on your shoulders, and the hugs you get are friendly enough. When Yoongi gets his turn, his breath has the same alcoholic tint that yours does as he greets with a low, 

“Sup.” 

“Hey,” you grin, leaning into his one-armed hug a little too much. “Long time, no see.” It’s a vague comment to everyone else, but the look in Yoongi’s eye holds a lot more understanding. 

“No kidding.” 

You don’t get another word in because the rest of the boys are as boisterous as always, taking what they can from the smattering of bottles on the counters. 

“Gimme some. Hurry the fuck up!” 

“Hold on, shit!” 

“Y’all slow as hell.” 

“Get yourself some then? The fuck?”

Your brother doesn’t seem to be with them, so you figure he’s with another circle or found someone for the night already. In which case, gross. 

Yoongi’s arm slips behind you to grab a solo, and you feel his heavy jacket run across your back, your body stiffening on impact. He, however, seems completely unphased as the disruption finally settles in the kitchen. 

“Damn, I need a hit.” 

“Same.” 

“Bet. Yoong, we’re heading out back.” 

“K. Be out in a sec.” 

Wait. 

He’s staying here? 

With you? 

As you watch the jostling and squeaks of sneakers clear out, you try not to let excitement or whatever other troublesome emotions spill out of your eyes. Even though the heat from Yoongi’s body radiates into your back, making anything incredibly hard. Focus. Focus! 

Swallowing, you do your best to keep your expression neutral while feeling anything but. It’s after they all retreat out the back door that you decide to face him again. 

Only an outstretched red cup graces your vision. 

“Lemme have some of that,” Yoongi orders with a flick of the solo towards a bottle next to you. 

“Sure.” You quickly pour him as much as he wants before setting the alcohol down with a heavy thud. As you lean on the counter, you stare at the opposite side of the kitchen and wonder what the hell to do next. 

Not once did you guess you would be somewhere alone with him tonight. The situation makes you more buzzed than any amount of alcohol can. 

“How’s life?” you suddenly blurt, to which Yoongi snickers over the rim of his cup. 

He responds with a teasing lilt, like he knows you regretted your question. “Life’s good. You?” 

A drawn out, unsure sound stems from your mouth, and you hold your own solo to your lips in an attempt to keep them from uttering something else embarrassing. “Life’s… good. Nothing too bad.” 

“That’s all we need, right?” 

“I’ll say.” You take a sip of alcohol, loving how it tastes like courage and stupidity. “How’s the music thing?” 

“What?” 

Curious, you turn to face Yoongi staring, brow cocked and shoulders tense. Why does he look guarded? Referring to a vision from before, you explain, “I saw equipment on your desk.”

“When did y—oh.” Rough fingers slide across the back of his neck as he looks around, continuing in a much lower voice, “It’s going.” 

“Riveting,” you respond, highly amused by his lack of detail. “Don’t forget me when you’re famous and doing hour-long interviews because you can’t shut up.” 

In a fleeting moment, you see light burst onto tile as Yoongi laughs, his eyes creasing tight. “Ass,” is all he says back, but it’s enough to have you grinning and burning up beside him. 

After that, the little bubble of awkwardness around you pops, and conversation flows a lot more freely. Yoongi stays longer than you expect him to, but still not enough to fill a mysterious gap in your chest. 

“Well, I gotta go,” he says after a few more words are exchanged. “But, hey. If you’re looking for a nice spot for fireworks, go upstairs. This house has a sweet balcony view of the whole neighborhood.” 

“Really?” 

“Mm.” 

You nod before thanking him, wondering how he picked up on your hesitance to stay outside by the street. “I’ll check it out.” 

Yoongi smiles before he’s tugged away from you, and you see one of the girls from before on the other side of his arm, liquor sloshing out of his cup and onto her uncaring skin. 

“I found him!” she shouts to a random group before you hear amusement spill out of her capture’s mouth. 

And you’re suddenly left to yourself. 

Interestingly enough, it doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. After all, that exact same scenario is something you’ve seen dozens of times before. Nothing new. 

Besides, the New Years countdown is happening soon—at least, from what you can hear on the TV—so you join everyone else gathering in the cul de sac. When you get out there, you find your friends and they greet you with drunken hugs and bright, hopeful eyes. 

“We’re going into Jimin’s!” 

“Oh, my god, she’s so loud.” 

“I don’t care! New years, bitch!” 

Mirth shoots out of your mouth as you help the nearest idiot past the threshold of Jimin’s place. Immediately, the humidity of numerous bodies is palpable, and you want to get the damn countdown over with so you can leave. 

Pop blasts throughout the rooms as the living room TV is turned up, and everyone gathers to watch the animated host start a longtime tradition in front of a crowded city block. The countdown is echoed by multiple voices, raising in intensity as it gets closer and closer to zero. 

Even you start joining in as it reaches ten, looking around the room at all the people wanting the year to fucking end. Not too far away from your spot, you notice Yoongi and your brother with their friends, red cups raised high. 

And your heart drops faster than the ball at a sudden realization. 

You. 

Yoongi. 

Living in two separate worlds while being mere feet away from each other. 

Muffled shouts of happy new year or a much more explicit version clog your ears, but you don’t get pulled to the present until you get a kiss from one of your drunk girlfriends on the cheek. The wet and mushy nature of it alone is enough to snap your focus straight again, and you face them with fake disgust. Grinning, you playfully shove them while sporting a slightly weakened heart. “You sloppy bitch!” 

“You liked it, don’t lie!” 

“Wait, do that again I didn’t see it—”

“Fuck off, Tae!” 

You can’t help but erupt in more laughter; your friends are idiots and you love them. In the corner of your eye, you think you catch Yoongi watching you before you turn to smile at him, too, but what greets you is something entirely different. 

One of the girls from earlier pulls him down for a kiss. 

No. Stop. You can’t feel like this. The sight makes you falter in your celebration but you quickly turn away to distract yourself. Cheering, friends, new year. Anything. Anything to ignore the dark, uncalled for feeling coalescing in your belly. 

This is normal. Normal, normal, normal. This has happened so many times before. That’s it. Nothing out of the ordinary. Completely ordinary.

You don’t see Yoongi when you look again. 

————

More champagne and distraction is what you need, so that’s exactly what you retrieve. Any drinking game offered has you participating, and they are temporary respites from unwarranted disappointment. 

But after most of your friends start to head out or are forced to go home by more sober and logical people, your tipsy form retreats to the next house over—the one with the treasured balcony. One moment you’re surrounded by people ringing in the new year with shouts and laughter; the next you’re watching the night while drinking champagne alone. 

At least it isn’t entirely quiet. Not with the loud people in the backyard and booms of fireworks. But, even still, it’s enough to let your mind finally wander. To fantasize a world unlike the one you’re in now. 

What would it be like? To be that girl easily tugging Yoongi away? To be a person that can pull him down for a kiss in public and not have someone else jumping his bones? 

As you watch bright lights leave smoke marks on the sky, you imagine yourself in their shoes. Unbothered. Unchained from any obstacles they didn’t choose to have. Holding on to that one moment in time that you wish you could go back to and stay in forever. 

And as your breath wisps around your face, summer has never felt so far away.  

Overly rueful, you shoot empty laughs into your cup, your eyes pricked from the cold and absolutely, positively nothing else. 

————

You don’t know how long you stay up there, but it’s enough time for winter to burn the tips of your ears. Maybe your brother will be looking for you soon and it’ll be time to go. He better be able to take you home because you are not getting into your friends’ cars. 

Home sounds good right about now anyways. You can lock yourself in your room and pretend that your heart isn’t slightly, kinda, terrifically wounded. 

As you turn, the sliding door opens.

And the person that walks through is just as shocked to see you as you are them.

You would have thought that seeing Yoongi after that kiss would devastate you. But it doesn’t. 

Instead, at the sight of him, you feel strangely… Okay. Maybe it’s the amount of alcohol in your system, or the serendipitous nature of the moment, or the way his fingers grip his beer a tad harder. Whatever it is, you smile without teeth before commenting, “I see someone started the year off right.” 

“I dunno,” Yoongi responds, running a hand through his hair as he ambles over to the railing, a safe distance from you. Like he should. “She damn near ripped my tongue out.” 

“I don’t blame her. Yours is annoying.” 

“Wow.” 

Laughing, you extend your glass toward him, trying to come to terms with how far away he has to keep you. 

Even though it hurts, at least you can live with that one memory. The one, beautiful memory that changed your entire life. 

“Here’s to a happy fuck last year!” 

Yoongi raises both brows. You have no idea why. 

Until you suddenly realize what your statement could also imply, and your next words trip over each other flying out of your mouth, “Oh, fuck. I meant—I meant the whole year, not like… Umm.” 

Making a fool of yourself always seems to work. He laughs at you before clinking your glass. “Happy fuck last year.” 

Hearing him say it back is so much worse. If it wasn’t for the sudden bursts of light and hues, you would’ve been retreating into your own head. 

But you’re too enamored by the fireworks. Excited, you turn to face the neighborhood rooftops, marveling at the pops and sparkles of color shining above their shingles. It’s a sight to behold. A warm sight during a chilly night. 

Squealing unwittingly, you think this is the best way to experience a night like this. Observing fireworks from a distance and not worrying about potential harm, the mini spectacles lull you into a strange sort of peace.

There exists another reason why you’re so calm, though. With just one other person on the balcony with you, you no longer feel alone. At all. Intriguing how one person can make such a difference—or is it because that one person is Yoongi? 

More bursts of brilliance boom and break spots in the dark night, and you rest your cup on the railing before gripping the wood with both your hands. 

Hands down, this is the most content you’ve felt all night. And the most contemplative. You almost feel nostalgic for the exact same moment you’re living, which you didn’t think was possible until now. Softly, words leave you in puffs of white, 

“It’s so weird how you can love something you’re afraid of.”

You don’t expect an answer; you don’t even expect any kind of acknowledgement. 

But a beat of silence passes before Yoongi responds, “Geez, you talk just like your brother.” 

It’s an empty tease. You know you can speak freely with him, especially after he drilled it into you so long ago. It’s been months, and yet you feel like it’s only been days. Heart somewhat healed from fresh starts and hope, you continue, “I mean, I dunno. I just think it’s interesting. I love fireworks, but apparently I am terrified of them.”

You hear the swig of beer before Yoongi places his glass on the wooden railing, fingers lazily resting on its surface. Some other festive explosives set off in the distance, and you can hear the telltale sounds of sparklers going off in the cul de sac. 

“So you like the idea of them but not the real thing?” 

Smiling, you turn to face him, admiring his side profile for the upteenth time that night. “I guess so. Weird, right?” 

Yoongi keeps his eyes on the night, his lips pursing together in thought. 

Turning back to the expanse beyond the balcony, you want to know what he’s thinking. 

Scratch that. You admit to yourself that you want to know a hell of a lot more than that. You yearn to know why his life is good, what he thinks about you now, and even the little things, like if he even likes fireworks himself. 

“Who cares if it’s weird,” he finally responds in a low tone. “If you love it, that’s just facts.” 

If there’s one thing you love about Yoongi, it’s his ability to make everything make sense. At his words, validation fills some of the cracks in your soul. 

But you also feel emotions that you know you absolutely should not recognize or entertain seep in. Those need to be flushed out immediately.

More shouts about the next countdown erupt from below, and your heart sinks a few more floors. You know your friends that are still here would want you down there with them. Chest slightly caved, you relent. 

“I should go.” 

“Yeah.” 

His quick agreement cuts through you. Motivating yourself to walk away, you hate how empty you feel when you have to say goodbye. 

“Have a good new year, Yoongi,” you whisper as you leave the railing and something more behind. “See you around.” 

“Same,” he murmurs back, hands in his jacket and hair catching slightly in the wind. “See ya.” 

When you step through the sliding door, you shut it behind you. 

And you don’t make another stride. 

Seconds and seconds pass, but you still remain. Like you forgot something and refuse to leave without it. Why do you feel this way? Why does it feel like you need to go back?

And then you remember. You’re an idiot and you left nothing but your drink. So you turn back around to go fetch your abandoned glass. 

Only to see Yoongi on the other side of the door. 

Your heart leaps into your throat, scared shitless because of the shock but also something even more frightening. What is this feeling? Why does it feel momentous? 

Why do you feel like crying?

As Yoongi slides the door open, you stay completely still. “I left my dr—” 

“Fireworks scare the shit outta me, too.” 

His eyes are scanning the room while a hand softly tugs your hip forward, and before you know it, you taste beer and warmth and summer on your lips. Your eyebrows jump impossibly high at the contact, and urgency pushes you into him immediately, drinking as much of him as you can. 

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. There are people here. Your brother is somewhere in this house and you have absolutely no idea where. 

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Because Yoongi is kissing you knowing damn well what could happen and it’s igniting a fire in you that will last and last and last. Your hands are frantic in the way they grip the front of his thick jacket, squeezing until your knuckles hurt. And you’re saying something into his lips but you don’t know what the fuck it is. All you know is that he’s responding incredibly loudly through the way his tongue darts into your mouth to shut you up.

You’re not in a random house anymore; you’re in his place. You’re making your way through his living room. You’re thrown onto his sheets. 

You’re finding refuge in his arms.  

But just like that, the kiss stops. 

Yoongi and you pull away at the same time, both hyper aware of your surroundings and the rowdy happy new year shouts a floor below. Your breathing is shallow, like you ran ten thousand miles without pause; Yoongi simply looks like he watched you from the sidelines, smug. 

His little breaths of amusement fill the space between you as he hands you your liquor, and you take it before even realizing what’s happening. 

“Now go have fun, doll. Don’t spend tonight alone.” 

You can only stare at the silver around his neck, wanting to go back to the last time you’ve seen them this close. “Oh…” You know how you want to respond to that, and you know that he knows how you want to respond to that. 

So you don’t say what you want to. With a heavy heart, you meekly respond, “Okay.” 

“Your kisses got better.” 

What? 

Your eyes shoot up from the ground as you regard his mouth in a relaxed curve. 

Yoongi didn’t need to say that. Or swoop in for a kiss that you’ll be thinking about ten years from now. But he did, knowing the possible consequences and doing it anyway. 

Lips puffed and chest burning, you grin—a real grin—giddy and floating high above the cloudless, smoke-filled new year sky. “Thank you.” 

He looks at you like he wants to say something, to tease you. But he doesn’t. “No sweat,” is all he replies with, a forearm resting on the sliding door. “Now go.” 

So you do exactly as he says, walking through the gameroom and realizing that there is a lot more color in it than when you drifted in the first time. It’s not until you get to the exit that you suddenly spin, a sense of deja vu coating your bones. 

“Yoongi?” 

He’s still watching you. “Hmm?” 

“If I ever… need another favor…?” 

Reaffirmation. You need to be okay with whatever he says, but you at least want to be sure. At least, the alcohol in your body and the thoughts in your brain need to know. 

Yoongi’s face flashes with multiple possible emotions and answers. Will he say yes? Will he say no? Your feet stay solid on carpet but his silence has you dangling off a precipice. 

But you’re tugged to safety as a corner of his mouth lifts, his deep voice holding you close. 

“You know where to go.” 

And the lights in his eyes remind you of fireworks.

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A/N: y’alll tell me why i cried while writing this dsfjdlkjf i love this couple so fcking much it’s actually so scary. :’))) i hope you all enjoyed this surprise drop! if you’re new to the 3tan world, welcome in! happy to have you; we have fun here :D ++ feedback box (new!): ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here!   ++ ⇥ masterlist 

[raplinesmoon]

The Test Kitchen (KSJ x Reader!)

❅ Holiday in Handcuffs ❅ hosted by @bangtanbathhouse

⤖ Spaces: [8I,3I,3J, 10G, 10H]

Pairing: Husband!Kim Seokjin x YouTuber!Reader

Genres: floof

AUs: established relationship, holidays AU

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: oc breaks glass, some kissing, otherwise super cute fluff

Ratings: G

Summary: Tiktok made you do it… again. Luckily Jin is there to help you have some fun in the kitchen.

A/N: It's basically December, so I can post this... right? I had this cute idea for husband Jin lovingly helping his YouTuber spouse with their cooking channel, and it was so cute I think I nearly died writing it. This is based on my favorite Youtube channel, Rachhloveslife, who does tons of vids testing out hacks with her absolutely adorable husband! Srsly, they’re goals and you all should watch them for a smile. Thank you to the wonderful Moon (@lavienjin) for looking this over for me <3 I hope you enjoy! 🥺 Lots of love, Isi 💜 Banner made by me.

Taglist: @jinpanman @sunshinerainbowsbts @joheunsaram @kithtaehyung @jjksblackgf @minyfic

“Helloooo my lovely people, it’s December and you all know what that means! It’s basically the most wonderful time of the year!” you accentuate your intro with jazz hands as you slide on the red Santa hat you’d dug out of the basement especially for this video.

“And everyone, look-, look, I decorated!! Just to get in the holiday spirit!” you excitedly gesture to the string lights and tinsel you’d hung up for the video, paling when you realize half your string had gone out and was now dangling limply from the cabinets.

“Or, at least I tried. You know, because holiday cheer is all about spirit anyway! A for effort.”

Nice save.

“Now, today, I’m very excited because we’re going to be diving into the vast world that is holiday Tik Tok. A world that, until recently, I didn’t know existed, until my husband showed me all these cute little DIYs and recipes and decorating hacks. You guys, I AM OBSESSED. So I thought it’d be fun to try out a bunch of different recipes for you guys, and of course, we’ll have Jin come in and try them too!”

Speaking of Jin, you had a long day of filming ahead, and he was supposed to be arriving any second with your daily cup of Dalgona coffee. As a native, he’d initially been all grumpy and grumbly when the trend had hit the interwebs, mumbling under his breath that it wasn’t even “authentic” to traditional Korean dalgona.

A few trials later, and the two of you had become hooked on the sweet, foamy beverage. You made Jin eat his words as he got up every morning to prepare the two of you a cup before heading off to his office to work from home in a crisp white dress shirt and fleece pyjama bottoms.

Hearing him pad into the kitchen with two cups, you smile as he slides you your cup out of the camera’s eagle-eyed view.

“Madam, your coffee,” he smirks with a whisper.

“Okay, now that I have been deemed caffeinated, it’s time to spread some Christmas cheer! And I feel like now, more than any other holiday season, we really need a bit of cheer. So come on and cosy up, grab some fuzzy socks or a blanket, maybe grab a mug of tea, or maybe even hot chocolate, ooooh that sounds so good right now. Also this hat, this hat is getting very hot, and I’m wearing fleece pyjamas and the heat is on and let’s just not talk about the poor planning here and jump right into it!”

Jin shoots you a warm smile before taking a seat at your kitchen table behind the camera. As a raging introvert, sometimes having a bubbly YouTuber for a wife was a lot to handle. But his favorite days of the week were the times he got to sit down and help you test and film and edit. His heart always fluttered at seeing you so passionate and invested in doing what you loved, and bringing joy to your hundreds of thousands of subscribers.

“So for recipe #1, we’re gonna be making these shortbread cookies, but they’re not just shortbread cookies. Look everyone, they’re also little lids!! Like these cute little lids that you could just put on a mug of hot chocolate to keep it warm! How genius is that?”

Jin had a couple of questions about the shortbread cookies. He was doubtful that 1) they’d be as cute and adorable as Tik Tok made them seem (the app had a bad habit of overselling anything and everything), and 2) whether they’d actually keep anything warm without turning into a soggy mess. For now though, he’d just sit back and enjoy the way your eyes widened and lit up over the recipe in question.

“Now, to begin, we’re gonna roll out some dough,” you grunt, as your ball of shortbread dough smacks onto the counter with a satisfying thunk!

“Does this rolling pin in my hand make me look menacing?” you ask the camera, but really you were asking Jin.

Jin shakes his head vehemently. You were too cute, you couldn’t even be scary if you tried.

Your shoulders drop and you pout slightly at his response, but decide to keep chugging along.

“So the funny thing about shortbread actually, is that baking it during the holidays is kind of a tradition in my family. My dad had this really good shortbread recipe that he used to make when I was a kid with lemon zest, rosemary, and orange zest. I remember I got so upset one year because when Jin and I had just started dating, his parents taught us both how to make songpyeon for Chuseok, and the same year, my dad taught Jin the holiday shortbread recipe but not me! I threw such a fit, and my dad was like, “you’ll just have to keep Jin around so he can teach you one day.”

Jin remembers your first holidays together like it was yesterday. Although it had been a whirlwind, flying to Korea for Chuseok and staying there for a few weeks, and then flying back to spend the holidays with your family, he wouldn’t have traded your sleepy, puffy cheeks and jet-lagged cuteness for anything. That was the first time he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

“And now, I couldn’t find a cookie cutter that fit my mugs perfectly, so I’m just gonna use this glass bowl to stamp out the shapes,” you hold it both hands, palms flared outwards, showcasing the glass bowl as though it were the most precious artifact.

Jin’s eyes widen as your hands slip, and the bowl wobbles, tumbling into the air. Poised and ready, he darts into the frame, pushing you out of the way of the falling glass as it falls to the ground and shatters into hundreds of tiny crystalline pieces.

He looks up to see your despondent face as you take in the disastrous sight, reaching over his broad frame to cut the camera.

“We can always edit that out,” he says gently, noticing how tears glisten and cling to your lashes.

“I’m always so clumsy,” you sob, wrapping your arms around him and burying your head into his chest. “I can’t even hold a bowl straight, I ruin everything!”

Jin learned the hard way that filming recipes for YouTube meant more than your fair share of kitchen disasters, often resulting in the air smelling like burnt dough, or the stand mixer going haywire, causing batter to hit the walls. No matter how many times you edited it out with the “oh no no no” sound from Tik Tok, he knew you took each little failure to heart, lamenting at how you couldn’t be like those aesthetic influencers you saw scrolling on your phone every day.

“People love you because you’re real, baby, not because you’re perfect,” he presses a kiss to your hair. “Accidents happen. What matters is that no one got hurt.”

He smooths your hair and gives you another kiss, running to your supplies closet to grab a broom. Sweeping up the evidence of your transgression, he gives you a wide smile and reaches to take your hand in his, wiping the smudged mascara from under your eyes.

“Now, let’s roll the camera. We have some cookies to bake, don’t we?”

“Okay guys, we are back! And recovered from our little mishap,” you chuckle. “Just to recap, while we were away, Jin helped me finish up the cookies and put them in the oven! And now, we are gonna get started on the next recipe, which are these adorable peppermint spoons to go with our cookie lids!”

“So this recipe is from Tiktok," you recall, “but my mom actually does this at home using chocolate during Christmastime with our little nieces and nephews!! So, you know, maybe if this hack turns out to be a success, Jin and I can incorporate it with our little ones someday!”

Sputtering as he takes a sip of water right when the words come out of your mouth, the tips of Jin’s ears turn red. Yet another holiday season where the whole family would ask about when you were planning on having kids. It wasn’t that he didn’t want kids, of course. Jin’s heart swelled at the thought of you, him, and a little baby, making pancakes on a Sunday morning, the small squeals and giggles along with the clapping of tiny hands. But there was no pressure in his mind. You were both still young, and enjoying each other’s company. Children could come later.

“So I got these crushed up spoon moulds from Amazon,” you continue on, “but that’s not the cool thing. Look what I found!”

You hold up the bag of crushed up candy canes. You’d jumped up in delight when the two of you had gone shopping together for this video, not even excited about the hack, but more excited to tell the world about the amazing new revelation that was crushed up peppermint.

Now, all you had to do was sprinkle them into the mould and pop them into the oven, and then your viewers would love these cute spoons that took no effort at all.

“I was just thinking,” you ponder, “these are so easy, you could totally make them, and package them up with a cute little mug, and maybe some hot cocoa mix and give it to friends. We should totally do that! Right, Jin?”

Looking beyond the camera, you see Jin nod and give you a thumbs up. You’re unsure whether he’s agreeing with your suggestion or merely telling you that you’re doing great, but you don’t mind his encouragement either way.

“Jin is too shy to talk right now, but he agrees with everyone. So don’t steal this gift idea from me!” you joke.

Finishing up the candy spoons, you pop them into the oven and cut the camera once more, happy that this hack seems to be working out so far.

“Nice recovery,” Jin says from behind you. “I told you everything would be okay, didn’t I?”

“I know,” you sigh, “but I always make you say it every time. I somehow can’t believe my own brain, but totally melt from the encouragement from my awkward, dorky husband.

“Omg, melt?!” you nudge his arm. “Do you get it?”

“Babyyy,” he tugs on your arm, grinning as he pulls you away from the counter. “You’ve been working so hard since you got up. Let’s take a break and eat. I made some kimbap yesterday, and we can play some Mario to unwind before we start filming again.”

Jin has barely finished persuading you to come along when you lean over and press a kiss to his pink lips, his face flushing at your bold actions.

“Lead the way, handsome.”

“AAAND NOWWW, for the grand finale! It’s a Christmas miracle!” you yell, gesturing to the side as if you’re presenting a magic act. “Everyone, after months of persuading, I have finally convinced, the one, the only, my darling husband, Kim Seokjin to join us for our taste test!”

“Everybody give him a big round of applause,” you jump up and down, making crowd noises with your mouth as Jin awkwardly stumbles into the frame, greeting the camera with a small wave.

You usher Jin over, proudly presenting your hot chocolate themed creations to him. He takes in the scene, his chest swelling in pride as he takes in your cute cookie lids, peppermint spoons, and the ever famous Tik Tok hot chocolate bombs that he’d helped you frantically finish after the two of you spent too much time lazing around, playing Mario Kart.

With a glint in his eyes, he nods his head, his eyes glancing over at the pile of dishes that rest in the sink. You let out a tiny gasp, catching onto his mischief, and slowly press a finger to your lips and let out a small “shhh!”. Not even one minute into his camera debut, and his chaotic side was already making an appearance.

“I had a crazy thought,” Jin blurts out. “What if we put the hot milk on these chocolate bombs, and it just turns into a big gloopy mess? That seems pretty likely.”

“Jiiinnnn,” you whine. “Everybody, tell my husband to stop being a pessimist just because he’s the better cook.”

You grab the measuring cup full of hot milk, and drop a hot chocolate bomb into two mugs, one for you, and one for Jin. Pouring the milk into each cup, you feel your breath hitch, Jin’s heavy breathing behind you, as both of you wait for the long awaited surprise.

“I-, wait, oh, I see it-, oh,” your voice drops, taking in the melted chocolate that looks more like sludge at the bottom of the cup.

“I guess it kinda worked,” Jin scrutinizes. “But let’s be real, drinking this would clog our arteries. So it looks like all our efforts were in vein!! Get it?”

He guffaws, nudging your shoulder as giggles escape you too, the both of you doubled over in laughter from his dad jokes.

Still, determined to save this, you reach over and grab one of the peppermint spoons, stirring the hot liquid with it. You let out a tiny “oops” as half of the spoon completely melts away, dropping into the sweet liquid, and turning it an even more unappetizing color.

“Well folks,” you say, looking up at the camera with a smirk, “we struck out on 2 out of 3 of these recipes. Now, for the grand finale, will these cookie lids work?”

They look cute enough, you think, as you grab one of them from the baking tray, plopping it on top of the cup.

“Aaaand salvaged!” Jin announces, hand meeting yours in a high five. “They had us in the first half, not gonna lie, but my amazing wife manages to make everything work.”

“And there you have it folks,” you declare, wrapping up the video. “Tik Tok baking hacks that kind of, semi-worked? That was more anticlimactic than I thought it’d be, but we had so much fun! See you all in the next video!”

You reach over to turn to press the button to stop recording, but not before Jin’s “Aish, kids these days” sneaks into the A-roll.

“Ugh," you groan, rubbing your temples. “I was so excited for some of those, I thought they’d work! There’s like hundreds of videos on Tik Tok about them!”

“It’s not you baby,” Jin wraps his arm around your waist. “They’re just bad recipes that somehow happened to go viral. Maybe next time we should bake some of the recipes from your family cookbook? And I can ask my mom for some of hers. I’m sure the viewers would love that.”

“You know,” you sigh, a sleepy yawn interrupting your train of thought. “That’s not a bad idea. My dear Jinnie, you always know what to say to make me feel better.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Now, I think someone is a little tired, don’t you think? Let’s go to bed.” He supports his weight, the two of you lumbering up the stairs sleepily to your cosy bedroom, changing into your matching flannel pyjamas.

As he listens to your quiet snores, Jin looks out the window, silently watching the snow fall outside, painting a magical scene in your front yard amongst the twinkling lights. Soon enough, there’d be another day waiting for the two of you in the test kitchen. In his heart, he knew this holiday season would be your best yet.

A/N pt 2: Thanks so much for reading! As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway <3

[jjksblackgf]

the colonel domme fleet

❅ Holiday in Handcuffs ❅ hosted by @bangtanbathhouse   → Spaces used: F5 - G5 - H5 - I5 - J5 | D1 - D2 - D3 | D6 | B10 - C10 - D10

summary — Namjoon is a desired professor at your University. Good thing he only had eyes for you at the Christmas party. Even better when he shared with you his kinky side. genre — smut rate — nsfw warnings — Handcuffs, blindfolds, whips, vibrator, impact play, pain kink, leash/collars author's note — okay, so this one is a moodboard of sorts, the smutty one will be under the cut... you've been warned. i have to say, it's hard to tell a story through image, i have new found respect for photographers. tagging — @agustdealer look who finally decided to post lmaooo

images credits: 01 | 02 | 03 | namjoon

quotes credits:

→ “I didn’t want to kiss you goodbye — that was the trouble — I wanted to kiss you good night — and there’s a lot of difference.” ― Ernest Hemingway

→ “Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?' ― Patricia Highsmith, The Price of Salt

[horanghater]

Overture

Summary: Good things come to those who wait. Not that Hoseok has a choice. ▸ Pairing: Hoseok x NB!reader ▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ / smut, pwp / established relationship ▸ Warnings: D/S dynamics, sex toys, overstim, creampie, oral lite™ (m!receiving) ▸ Word Count: 1.8k ▸ A/N: I had an itch that only bottom!tan could scratch. Siya, thank you for giving this filth this a once-over! This is also part of a lovely little event! Holiday in Handcuffs ❄️ hosted by @bangtanbathhouse arrived just in time! Spaces: D6, A9, B9, and C9 (This is a true pwp, so everything’s gotta go under the cut)

You hadn't allowed Hoseok to touch himself for all of November, but that didn't mean you couldn't touch him. For weeks, you went out of your way to tease him even more than usual. Gone were the gentle brushes against his thighs or chest in the warmth of your shared bed. Instead, you'd cage him in the galley kitchen or the closet, shoving your hands into his pants roughly to "inspect" him and make sure there wasn't any cum in his underwear. You'd twist your wrist until you were at the perfect angle to close your fist around his length and squeeze, telling him this was "part of the exam" as you brought him to a half chub. Just as Hoseok would try to hump into you, to get any kind of friction, you'd declare the frisking complete. He'd fall for it every time, getting more and more needy as the month went on, and he learned to expect your ministrations.

Hoseok didn't sleep on November 30th, anxious for your touch in the dark quiet of the night. But your touch did not come and neither did he. The next day you'd pointedly ignored his pouts and quiet whines, pushing him to approach you outright. He'd come up behind you in the living room for once, slotting his arms under yours to pull you close and nuzzle into the side of your neck. When he moved to brush curious fingers over your nipples through your clothes, you laced yours with his lovingly. It meant "no". And though he relocated his grasp to safer territory, Hoseok pressed himself into you in a silent plea.

That, too, was ignored for another week.

Finally, Hoseok is getting what he's been begging for - halfway through December. His hands are bound above his head with thick, cotton rope. His legs don't get the same treatment - a rare occasion - but Hoseok learns about thirty minutes into the scene that it isn't for his benefit; you just like it when he squirms.

You've been sitting sex to sex with your legs on top of his. It's not quite close enough to bring either of you satisfaction, but it's the perfect angle to keep him from thrashing too much as you hold his aching shaft with one hand while the other palms wet circles over his leaking tip. It's only been about an hour and Hoseok usually takes longer to work up like this, but he's already passed from desperate to delirious. At this point, he’s sobbing from even the slightest touch now and his dick is a dangerous, deep red as it strains on his stomach, cock ring keeping his orgasm tightly locked inside of his balls. Though it does absolutely nothing to stop the warm pre pooling on his abdomen.

Hoseok hiccups as you reach to grab his cheeks between your thumb and forefinger. Your skin is so soft, smooth against his, yet the pressure of your grip is harsh. It's a perfect reflection of your relationship at this moment: Tender. Torturous. Your signature gentleness is back, but it's not exactly benevolent.

"Do you want to cum?" you ask him calmly, as your other hand ghosts along his thigh.

Your touch is borderline agonizing and Hoseok's eyes flutter before he can catch himself. Your hand on his face immediately pulls his attention back, digging so hard into his cheeks now that his lips fish ridiculously. "Hoseok."

He's barely capable of coherent speech at this point, but he knows better than to leave your questions unanswered. "Nnngh – Please, yes, p-please."

Your palm slides down to splay across his neck and you tap his loaded balls with a finger. Hoseok's hips jerk so hard that he feels you flexing your legs to keep from bouncing off. You don't acknowledge the movement otherwise, opting to slightly slap his angry cock and pretend he's not at his limit instead. "Too bad."

When you do lift yourself off of Hoseok, his legs are leadened with static. He tries to crane his neck to see where you're going – pleasenononopleasenodon'tleavepleaseno. This isn't one of those nights where you cross the room to watch him break from the comfort of your armchair, luckily. Instead, you return to him quickly with hollowed cheeks closing around as much of his length as you can fit into your mouth. 

Hoseok wails, his body nearly jackknifes from the electricity shooting through his limbs. His member throbs painfully and it feels like he's cumming dry. It's not the first time he's accidentally fucked your throat and though he's definitely not supposed to without permission, he also knows that the nasty gwak that escapes you makes your eyes cross.

Hoseok thinks he can't take any more of this, but as always, you know his body best. You flatten your tongue along the underside of his shaft and hold it there, humming softly. He's almost hyperventilating beneath you, eyes screwed shut as he focuses on trying not to fire his load past the vice at his base like a sawed-off shotgun. But when you drag your mouth up to the head and lap at his endless string of precum and then envelop him fully again, he's certain you're playing with the trigger just for the sake of sadistic cruelty. 

He fucking loves it.

Drool is the first thing that comes out of Hoseok's mouth, coating the sides of his chin. After that, he hopes it's words. He's trying to beg just the way you like. It's less about what he says and more about how he says it. It has to be loud and broken, with no room to wonder who the only person that can make him like this could be.

He's not sure if he's said anything close to a sentence, but you pull off of him to offer him something disgusted as mercy. 

"If I take this off, you'll be good for me. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" 

Hoseok almost gives himself whiplash nodding "yes" and you chuckle between his legs. Just your breath against him makes his cock twitch.

"Remember: behave yourself," you warn. "You cum when I say so. Tell me you understand."

Hoseok's voice cracks from the strain. "'M good, understand." He does muster the strength to look you in the eyes. At this point he doesn't have to put on a face to gain your (nonexistent) sympathy – it's already painted so pretty, with tear tracks and saliva and an expression that only takes his features when he's given himself to you completely.

Deft fingers finally remove the cock ring. You're as gentle as you can be, but the release of pressure is too much and Hoseok snaps instantly despite the promise that's just left his lips. He hears a distant coo of "cute~" before blood thunders in his ears and he cums, shouting as his hot release shoots up to his flushed chest. He knows he's earned himself a punishment and starts crying again in both anticipation and relief.

The flames of pleasure bursting from Hoseok's gut are so intense that he doesn't notice you lean over to grab something from the side table next to the bed. The aftershocks of his orgasm are still licking at his fingertips when your free hand clasps around his spent dick yet again – and he just about levitates above the bed. He's probably begging again - who knows for what - and you shush him lovingly.

"Oh doll," you admonish, words sickly sweet, "I didn't say you could do that." 

You pump him, slow and firm, only swatting at his leg when he futilely attempts to escape your grasp. Hoseok's sore all over. His shoulders hurt from staying in position above him and his length can't possibly fill again.

Until it does. Something like adrenaline (masochism?) dulls the rest of his aching muscles. At this point, Hoseok is just crying to cry. There's nothing else he can do beneath you like this. He wasn't even aware that his body could withstand this much.

Hoseok hears a cap flip open and then cold pouring over his cock. He hisses at the contact and knows it's lube. He knows how this is going to go.

"You don't cum until I say," you repeat.

It's your final warning before the warm, soft walls of a fleshlight suck down every inch of Hoseok's abused dick. You don't bother to ease him into it, fucking him like a piston as he howls on his back like a bitch. It's simultaneously too fast and too slow, the sensation of being swallowed by expertly crafted walls overwhelming his senses.

You don't stop plunging the fleshlight around him, but Hoseok feels the weight on the bed shift as you reposition yourself just enough to snake a hand between your legs with a miniature vibrator. As collected as you may be, this has been undoing you as well - as evidenced by the way you jerk and the way oxygen punches from your lungs as the silicone meets your sex.

If Hoseok had an ounce of cockiness left in him, he'd certainly comment on how badly this is affecting you too. But when you tell your baby to cum, he's too preoccupied with the orgasm that's wrung from him in a matter of seconds. A single command is enough for his ears to work the sound into a violent spasm, body taut and mouth open wide with a silent scream as he releases for the second time that night. He feels warmth spread around his member and mix with the lubricant in the fleshlight. You hold it there until he comes down from his high long enough to finally meet your expectant gaze.

You slot the toy that you were just playing with into your mouth, mirth in your eyes as you taste your own arousal on the smooth material. You preen in the way Hoseok's gaze scrapes over you. "Such a good boy for me. I knew you could do it."

Hoseok smiles weakly at the praise and gives his best "hmmm" in response, though it staccatos into a breathless moan as the fleshlight is pulled off of him with a squelch, effectively creaming him.

You crawl up to untie his hands, lightly brushing his sore wrists as they're freed. Hoseok nuzzles his face into your side as you release him, spittle-sodden fabric of the sheets cold against his shoulder as he cranes awkwardly to reach whatever part of you that he can.

When Hoseok's arms weakly wrap around your waist, you cradle him there until his hummingbird pulse becomes less frantic.

"Color, sweetheart?"

Hoseok presses a lazy kiss into your ribs, mumbling against you. "Green." He's exhausted, but his libido has a way of giving him bursts when it comes to doing anything with you.

You pull back from him so you can drink in his angelic face yet again, carding a hand through his hair lovingly. 

"Good," you declare finally, "because I'm going to use that pretty mouth next."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ Taglist: @jjksblackgf ;)