your heart was mine for the taking

⤷ Eventually you came to the realization that, if Namjoon was the king of the underground, you were as close as he would ever get to a queen.

✓ Couple: Namjoon x Reader | Boxer!AU and Gang!AU

✓ Filed under: smut, minor angst

✓ Look out for: violence, light daddy kink

✓ Words: 13,411

Author’s Note: guess who’s back, back again… guess who just edited this fic into the seven heavens and added about 6k more? das right

“Come on, (y/n), you won’t regret it!”

Hovering like a feather over your head, Yoongi’s proposal gradually fell into your consciousness. Quicker than you expected, the shadow of a frown was casted over your features and you found yourself rolling your eyes at his words, frustrated at his mindless insistence — what was that? The seventh or eighth attempt at convincing you throughout the last hour? Your patience was running thin.

Falling from in between your lips like poison, the bitterness of your response was enough for his mocking smile to wilther into seriousness, “How many times do I have to tell you?” you asked him, folding a particular shirt with more brutality than humanly necessary. The laundry room was already claustrophobic as it was, you did not need your friend pushing you against a corner and miserably failing to reach his goal.  “I don’t want to get involved in your illicit practices, Yoongi.”

An ironical chuckle exploded on his lips as your answer found him, his sentence already hanging at the tip of his roseate tongue, “Do you prefer to spend your sad Friday night being alone in your sad, lonely house?” he questioned, sarcastic. You nodded instantaneously, making him look you up and down — underneath the cool, flickering luminescence of the laundry room, his hesitant eyes scrutinized your rash, stubborn expression with care. “Folding clothes? Really?”

Your confirmation came as you folded the last piece of clothing — an orange shirt you swore you had thrown out already — and placed it on the large basket by your side, “Really,” you told him, picking the object up and walking towards the open door. You could no longer endure neither the smell of lavender detergent, nor the irritating irony from your companion’s part. Yoongi was your best friend, fair enough, but it was at times like those that you regretted one day giving him the keys to your small apartment. “Why do you care, anyways?”

sorry to bother but has anyone seen my sanity?

Jin: Don't Say You Love Me | The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon

twenty days until Namjoon returns

d-18: the duality of man

twenty days until Namjoon returns

d-20: pick-a-joon

twenty days until Namjoon's return

d-9: "BTS In The Soop"

* body language masterlist

* a translator that doesn’t eat ass like google translate does

* a reverse dictionary for when ur brain freezes

* 550 words to say instead of fuckin said

* 638 character traits for when ur brain freezes again

* some more body language help

➥ Title | Blurred Lines

➥ Pairings | Kim Seokjin x reader

➥ Genre | Smut, Sexual Tension!au, Teacher!Jin, Teacher!reader, Tattooed Biker!Jin

➥ Summary | A new place to live, a new job, a new beginning. Six months have passed and everything has been going well for you in starting over. The warm welcome from your students and peers have quickly made you feel at home, yet you still long to have one calm day where you wouldn’t have to walk into the school with a heavy weight on your shoulders and the air thick with tension. Blame it on him—the strict Math teacher who keeps giving you cold shoulders no matter how many times you try to play nice. One night out with your girls and a drunken dare ultimately lead you to uncover what he’s been trying to hide. People do say that the quiet ones always keep the biggest secret.

➥ Ratings & Warning | +18 / M for Mature; Slow burn, mutual pinning, mention of alcohol consumption, hard dom!Jin, sexual tension, tattooed Jin.

➥ Word count | 9.5k words

➥ Cross post | AO3 | Inkitt 

➥ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Ko-fi

➥ Next chapter ⇢

➬ Author’s Note | I’ve done it again. I have decided to split this story into a few chapters (hopefully only two) because it seems like I would be rushing it if I force to post this as a one-shot and I don’t want to have you waiting for much longer. I hope you’ll love this one as I have been extremely excited to share it :) | PS. Happy belated birthday, Seokjinnie! 

“…His door was open, but I sort of knocked on it anyway, just to be polite and all. I could see where he was sitting. He was sitting in a big leather chair, all wrapped up in that blanket I just told you about. He looked over at me when I knocked. “Who’s that?” he yelled. “Caulfield? Come in, boy.” He was always yelling, outside class. It got on your nerves sometimes.”

Keen eyes looking straight at you as you read through the passages of Salinger’s book from the front of the class.

A rare sight that you wouldn’t normally find on a Friday, especially when it comes to presenting a book which would be a part of their upcoming essay assignment. It pleases you to have your students giving you their rapt attention while staying on their best behaviour instead of looking like they are wishing to have been somewhere else but here, enough to have your words flowing nicely as you continue on,

“…I don’t much like to see old guys in their pajamas and bathrobes anyway. Their bumpy old chests are always showing. And their legs. Old guys’ legs, at beaches and places, always look so white and unhairy…”

You almost cringe in the middle of reading. You remember hating the nights you spent working an essay on this book many years ago. But looking at the various expressions your students are giving you now, you can already picture how exciting it would be to read their thoughts on this book or to have them talk about them on next week’s group discussion.

Except that the more you read through the bitter dialogues between the passages, pointing up some parts that you want your students to focus on in their essay, a face appears in your head to act as the main character. The familiar face that always looks daunting as he stares at you with so much disdain in his eyes it always put you in the corner, not completely sure just what to make of it. The face that welcomes you each morning when you arrive at school, and the one who is somehow always there despite the efforts you have made to avoid him.