#joonie fluff

[babeejeon]

Accidental Kiss - KNJ

Author Note: Finally I am back with a new writing in Accidental Kiss Mini Series. I was actually struggling with finding concepts that lead to accidental kiss. Yesterday I was watching a episode of My Sweet Mobster and I got inspired by the scene in the playground. So I decided to write this one. Hope you enjoy and Happy Birthday to our Joonie in advance.

Prompt: An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

-Kim Namjoon fluff, best friends to lovers au, Namjoon version of Accidental Kiss Mini Series-

It was a few days after Joon’s birthday and you two finally get to celebrate it together. What sucks in adult birthdays is that no one cares if it is on weekdays. Is it really hard to give an of day to your employee for their birthday? Are we really living in such a horrible world? Though, even if they gave him an off day, it would be hard for you to take the day off.

That is the reason you two decided to celebrate it on Saturday. Since the weather is nice, you thought it would be nice to go for a picnic. It is always good to cherish last few good days left from summer. Unlike Namjoon, you loved summer, so you want to hold on to these last warm days. Besides he is the nature boy anyways.

So, you found a really good national park outside of the city and prepared a big basket of yummy food and drinks. Not forgetting his birthday gift, you got on your car and drove to his apartment. When you arrive, he was already down, waiting for you. You rolled your window down, “Come on birthday boy!”. He chuckled and got on the car. “Hi!”.

“Hi! Are you excited for my surprise?” you asked. He nodded. “Yeah, very much.”

“Okay. Let’s hit the road, then!” you said and started the drive. “By the way you are responsible for the music.” You said and he connected his Bluetooth to the car.

--

When finally the park was visible he gasped in surprise. “Wow! I never came here before.” He said.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” you glanced at him for a brief moment. “It is.”

After driving a little while inside the park, you parked your car and found yourselves a place. After carrying your stuff, you opened the folding chairs and table and spread out a cloth to the grass. He peeked inside the basket, “Wow, you prepared a lot.”.

“It’s your birthday after all.” You said.

After taking everything out, he took a picture of all and of course a picture of you two. “I doubt if we can eat all of it.” He said.

“It is better to have more than less.” You said. You two eat and talk a lot. But after some time you started to feel sluggish. You yawned. He yawned after you. You started to laugh at the same time.

“That’s what you get when you eat that much.” He said while yawning again.

“Don’t worry we still have coffee.” You said and poured two cups of coffee. You take your cup and sit on the cloth in the grass. “Come here!” you pat next to yourself. He complied.

You stared around silently while sipping your coffee. The view was amazing. Nature really did it’s show as always. No words needed, the trees, flowers, birds and butterflies were mesmerizing. After a while both of you were lying down on the cloth and watching the sky, pointing each other clouds and trying to figure out what they look like.

“Do you see this one? It looks like a cat.” You pointed out.

“Come on, it doesn’t look like a cat.” He chuckled and turned towards you while putting his right hand under his head.

“No, it does.” You insisted while turning towards him. He shook his head side to side, “You and your obsession with cats.”.

“It is not an obsession, it is love.” You argued. He laughed, “Of course, it is.” and he ruffled your hair. You laughed along with him.

Then you sighed. “It is beautiful here, isn’t it?”.

He nodded. “I can lie here all day.”

You nodded. “Me too. It is as if all the world is so far. No work, no responsibilities or stuff.” You said.

“You wish you were a cat, right? No work, just meow meow.” He grinned.

“Stop teasing me.” You said while grinning back.

It was a lovely day, but just like every good thing, it has coming an end too. It was slowly getting dark, and you have to start picking your stuff. So, you tried to get up and walk towards the basket on Namjoon’s side but his long legs decided to come on your way and you trip over his leg and fall on top of him. And it wasn’t all, cause your lips also fall just on top of his lips, as well.

Your eyes widened, caught his eyes in panic and his eyes were as wide as yours. Then you realized that it would be better if you get off of him. So, you pull yourself just to part your lips and mumbled “Sorry.” And tried to move your body, only for him to press his had to your waist to prevent you from getting up.

“It’s okay.” He mumbled, but not like you. He didn’t look embarrassed like you. In fact, he did look super serious. And he was staring at your eyes, something was prominent in his eyes that you never catch before.

“I should get up.” You mumbled. ‘Oh, God! What is wrong with me?’ You could barely form a sentence. But he pressed his hand with a little more pressure, as if saying no. His eyes were saying something as well, staring deeply in yours.

“Do you mind if I kiss you, properly, this time?” he asked with a very deep voice.

“Ki-kiss? Kissing like.. me?” you asked with a high-pitched voice almost like your high school self. ‘Why do I have to stutter like that’ you thought to yourself.

“Yes, you.” He said, grinning to your shyness. And somehow you find yourself nodding and closing to your eyes. He put his lips to yours and rolled you to get on top of you. He kissed you slowly and tenderly. Then pulled back and pecked your forehead.

He lie next to you to stare at you. But you were just squeezing your eyes shut harder than before. And brought your hands to cover your face. He laughed at you.

“I can’t just look at you.” You said behind your hands.

“Oh, come on Y/N. I want to see your face.” He said, enjoying the whole situation.

“You just caught me off guard and now I can’t look at you.”

“What do you mean off guard? You didn’t kiss me because you wanted it?” he asked. He was sounding serious. You don’t want him to misunderstand you, so you take your hands down and sit up.

“I didn’t say that I didn’t want. I just, .. just feel a little shy.” You were looking down while talking.

You saw his hands reaching yours. “Come on, it’s me. There is nothing to be shy. I am your best friend Joon, remember?” he asked.

You sighed. “That’s exactly why I feel shy!” you protest.

“Well, it just makes you cuter. There is a thing called cuteness aggression, you know?”

You looked at him on that. “That was cheesy.”

“No, that is what it is.” He said and pulled you in his arms. You felt better now that he couldn’t see your face. So, you wrapped your arms around him, too.

“What’s all of these mean now? That, I am a cutie patotie?” you asked. ‘What an attempt to ask?’ you mentally slapped your face.

He laughed. “Yes, you are my cutie patotie now.”

PS: During the whole car ride he teased you, cause “It was supposed to be him to be the clumsy one!”.

[sopiloveshobi]

Brown beanie

One shot written for my friend Grace, please note that this is made up of pure fiction and none of the events are real. 4k word count, no warnings, absolute fluff of how you meet Joon in a gallery.

It’s been a really tough week. The weather was really bad, if it didn’t rain then it was still really miserable outside. Work has been insane, you just had a really big fight with one of your best friends and everything seemed to be going downhill this week. So on a Friday night you have made the plan for Saturday to go on a small retreat, one on one with yourself. Just you, your favourite book and a local coffee shop. Very cliché but it was the only way for you to disconnect. It has been ages since the last time you have done it and this time you decided to enhance the experience and leave your phone behind. You have been glued to some kind of screen for the past few days. You didn’t want to be bothered, there wasn’t anything you had planned with anyone, so surely nobody would mind for you to leave it behind. Besides, you’re an adult and you can do whatever you please.

You made yourself tea in your favourite mug, which was slightly chipped and the handle was slowly falling apart but it was the definition of home for you and almost like a tradition. Night time tea in this particular mug. Every night. You grabbed your laptop and you slid under the covers with your really hot tea which you almost spilled on yourself and your sage green sheets. ‘Shhhhh, I never learn’ you moaned to yourself when you saw few drops of tea on your lap. You wiped it with a tissue and put the mug down on the bedside table. Back to your laptop, you went through the map of nearby cafes and restaurants but nothing has really sparked your interest. You kept going further and further outside of the town and finally, there it was. A café and an art gallery in one. I must have been newly opened, because you haven’t seen it before and you used to spend quite some time in this area of the town. You wrote the address on a tiny piece of paper and you put it to the side. Closed the laptop and finished your tea.

The morning seemed a little bit better than the entire week before. It wasn’t fully sunny but it wasn’t raining and the clouds had some holes in them so you could see the potential of a somewhat nice day. You opened your very tired and old tote bag and you put a folded umbrella just in case. You have learned your lesson too many times before. Since you decided the day before to leave your phone behind, you were leaving your smart watch as well and settling on a very basic watch with a brown leather strap. Simple outfit, light make up. You weren’t planning on spending too much time on how you look, you were going on a detox and relaxing date with yourself.

Bag on your shoulder, sunglasses on top of your head just in case the sun decided to come out. You headed out.

The town was busy, it seemed busy and loud. But maybe it was only the impression since it was first time in weeks that you haven’t had your headphones in and you weren’t staring at your phone. Everything seemed more intense than usual. You shook your head and walked on down the road to finally approach a bus stop. You checked the schedule and looked at your watch, 5 minutes to wait for the next one. Pretty lucky, as there isn’t usually a lot of those leaving around this time of the day. ‘Half ten’ you thought to yourself. By the time you get to the place it should be around 11. You were hoping there won’t be too many people around for lunch, and that you will be able to get a nice comfy spot for yourself right before the madness of a lunch time will approach. The bus arrived and you hopped on, swiftly finding a spot at the back. You grabbed the book you had in your bag and decided to use the time to start reading. ‘Pachinko’ Min Jin Lee on the cover. You’ve heard it’s a really good book and a lot of people recommended it to you, you just didn’t have the time to actually sit down and read it. You bought it ages ago and it was just sat on the table in your kitchen, waiting for exactly today.

After a good few minutes of the journey, the bus stopped for another stop. You intuitively looked up from your book and saw a tall man with a brown beaning and sunglasses on top of it discussing something with the driver. He looked really confused but after a few seconds he nodded, smiled politely and got onto the bus. You returned to your read not thinking much of it. Few more stops and it was finally your turn to get off. You got up, still holding dear to the book that has been slowly consuming you as you were getting through the pages. You walked towards the door and because you weren’t paying any attention to your surroundings you bumped into the person that was getting off before you. You looked up.

‘I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to, my bad’ you quickly recited your apology and hoped the person in front of you won’t make a lot of fuss.

‘No worries’ said the man in front. ‘Strange accent’ you thought to yourself and then you looked up and saw the brown beanie and sunglasses on top; then you looked at his face and you saw a really pretty smile, his eyes in half moons and dimples painted really close to his smiling lips. You smiled back, a little bit surprised and startled. You smiled back and moved ahead of him to leave the bus. You shook your head few times, almost like trying to erase his face from in front  of your eyes. You walked few steps away from the bus stop and opened your tote to look for the piece of paper you wrote the address on the day before. Completely analogue style, without a phone or google maps how to get to place you checked out before. Finally, after a long struggle with your bag you manage to find the tiny piece of paper with scribbled address. You looked around and you saw the building which looked very similar to what you have seen the day before on the pictures.

‘Perfect’ you whispered to yourself and walked a very steady walk towards the door. The breeze of the air felt really nice on your skin, the sun decided to come out at least for few minutes and the warmth of it made you feel a little bit relaxed as you headed to the door. You got really sucked into the book and you haven’t had your coffee yet so this was the perfect morning for you. Far away from anyone you might know and bump into, all alone, no phone. Perfection.

You walked inside, really cosy feeling has gone over you. Familiar smell of coffee, really old wooden floors and high ceilings. Only few tables and chairs, none of them taken and a very happy to see you lady behind the till.

‘Hey, welcome in! What can I get for you?’ she started right away with a big smile on her face. ‘I wish I was as perky as her’ you thought to yourself and it made you realise how burnt out from work and everything in your life you were. The way she was - was normal, the way you felt was normal but also wasn’t. It needed healing and fresh start and a break from everything. You kept staring at the menu for a few more minutes just to take in the feeling that the entire place was giving you, even though you knew from the start what are you going to order.

‘Flat white please. It’s my first time here, how do I get to the gallery? Is it open?’ you returned to the lady with a slight smile on your face and excitement building inside you. That’s how you felt about a lot of things before you started working. Art, books, good coffee, long walks. Life used to feel light and free and now it feels really heavy.

‘It’s open, if you are the customer of the café it’s free of charge. It’s not a very big deal up there though, we only have few pieces at the moment. Please take a seat and I will get your drink ready’ she seemed so warm, so welcoming. This is exactly what you were looking for. You looked around the place to find the right spot for you and your Pachinko. You gazed around few more times and you decided to settle on a table in the corner with two chairs. Not in the way of anyone, just on the side and also close to enough to the till to get a refill. Because that was a guarantee. You will have more than one coffee here. It felt so right. Empty but warm and homey. Empty but full. You opened your book and started reading right away. The lovely lady brought you your order, which you nodded and smiled at her for without making a sound, you were so invested in your read.

Just like you predicted, the closer it gotten to lunch time the more people started turning up. Most of them only to order a coffee to go, few of them went straight to the gallery part and only one person actually sat down. A really old lady with her dog, which kept trying to jump on her seat.

You finished your second cup of coffee and you were about half way through your book. That was enough for now, besides you kept looking up to the stairs where all the people were going to see the art pieces in the gallery. And you were really interested into seeing what does it look like upstairs. You closed your book, holding it in your hand you carefully got upstairs. The lady at the till definitely downplayed the way this part of looked like because the room in front of you was a really long space, looking like three rooms merged into one. White walls, wooden floors and beautiful light fixtures coming down from the ceiling. There was at least 10 pieces hung on the walls and few benches in the middle, to sit and admire. Very cosy set up but very beautiful and breath taking even with it being on the smaller size. The art was big, the rooms didn’t have to be.

You have started on your left and carefully studied each piece, top to bottom, left to right. You felt yourself recharging and feeling like yourself again only after few minutes around all of these beautiful paintings. You finished the entire left side and you were about to start on the right side, you turned around in one go and walked before you looked. You felt your nose being squished across a soft fabric, a fresh scent of shower gel and really nice fabric softener surrounded you, when you realised you bumped into someone. Again!

‘I’m really sor…’ you started when you looked up from your feet and there he was. The man from the bus, brown beanie and sunglasses on top. You blushed, because he was staring directly into your eyes. You bumped into him twice. Two times. Two times in two different places. For a second you kept staring back at him, your cheeks turning slightly red and you felt this tiny pop of electricity traveling from his eyes to yours. Or from your eyes to his. He recognised you and he smiled again. He smiled the same way he did on the bus. You couldn’t forget his dimples, his eyes in half moons still and this time he smiled with his teeth. And his full smile was even more breath taking than the one you received before.

‘No worries’ he repeated himself ‘I think you must be really clumsy or..’ he added this time and giggled a little. You were a little bit too stunned to speak. He was gorgeous and he was tall and you could see his dark hair poking out from his beanie. His beautiful brown eyes looking straight at you.

‘Or?’ you responded too playfully. You didn’t even plan on saying anything back, but for some reason this was the only thing that came out of you automatically.

‘Or we were really meant to have a conversation today’ he blinked, almost like refreshing the connection between your and his eyes. You gasped. You immediately looked away and squeezed the book in your arms, pulling it closer to your chest. ‘Pachinko?’ he looked down on the front page of the book you were holding. You nodded. ’Great book. Good choice. This please is also great, you seem to have good taste’ he noticed. Good tase? What does that even mean. Does this mean he like those things? He like the book and the gallery you both were standing in?

‘Thanks, I just started it today actually..’ you became a little bit braver. You were trying really hard to not play the shy character for once in your life.

'I'm usually the clumsy one, so it's really refreshing to see someone else having similar issues to mine' he giggled under his breather and he slightly bowed his head and moved on to looking back at the pieces. You were a little bit surprised and taken back. How rude of him to move on, you were just in a middle of a conversation. You moved on to the painting next to the one he was just looking at. You saw him pull his phone out and taking a picture of it. Now you really regretted not taking your phone with you. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a picture of him and that painting. Two art works next to each other. And as you thought of it, he started back at you from his side of the gallery. Smug face and the stare drilling down into your eyes. The small electric feeling went through you again and you got butterflies in your stomach. ‘What the hell is going on?’ you thought to yourself and you smiled at him lightly and went back to admiring the art. You started ignoring him and fully taking in what was in front of you. He sat down on the bench and was admiring you. Well you thought that was the case, but he might have been admiring the piece you were currently looking at. It was difficult to tell because you really didn’t want to turn around. And then you heard the phone taking another picture. You turned around and you saw him smiling at his phone, the phone aimed at you and the painting.

‘You look great, let me send it over to you’ he gasped at your confused face.

‘I-…’ you looked down on your feet. The damn phone. Of course. ‘I didn’t take it from home. I’m having a field day with my book and decided to have no phone day’ you proudly admitted to him, nodding your head afterwards almost like your confirming that it was a good idea (it wasn’t). You turned around and walked towards him and you saw his expression change. He clenched his jaw and looked away. You saw him slightly blushing but you decided to not mention it.

‘Let me see though’ you said and peeked through his arm. It was a really nice picture of you in front of a painting. Really admiring it. The colours were in similar tones and it made it look like a small art piece itself. ‘How about I give you my email and you can send it there?’ you proposed because you really liked the picture. There was no intent behind your proposal. You had no idea who he was, he didn’t know who you were either.

‘Sure thing’ he was a bit taken a back but wrote down your email address and promised to send the picture to you.

‘Thanks a lot!’ you answered and got up from the bench and continued walking towards the next paintings that were further down the room. You continued to admire the other pieces and he kept kind of lingering behind you, also taking his time and taking pictures of some other pieces handing on the other side of the gallery. It felt so comforting with him in the same room, at the same time really peaceful.

You were looking at few of the emails from work that came through you personal email. Then you saw an email from kim.namjoon@ and you turned your head. You have no idea who that is so you automatically thought it was spam. You did open the email and expected ‘Dear customer, you won 1million gbp’ but instead you saw yourself in front of the huge painting in the gallery few days ago. It was him. You completely forgot that you asked him to send it to you. Well he asked you but you didn’t have your phone with you. You scrolled down the picture and below there was a line underneath: Coffee tomorrow at 6, same place? – Joon

Did this really hot guy from the gallery the other day is asking you out? And his name is Joon? You blinked twice. He was different and you really wanted to say yes right away but you hesitated. And then you closed your eyes and remember the energy between the two of you and the staring competition that ended in chemistry growing between you two like crazy.

‘See you there’ you responded to his email.

He was walking back and forth in front of the café, looking around nervously. He was really nervous, he had no idea whether you are going to show up or not. But there you were, walking down the road and smiling at him from a far. His heart sunk when he saw you and then a feeling of relief came right after. You approached him and said ‘hey stranger’, you teased but he still seemed really stiff and nervous. ‘Are you okay?’ you asked without waiting for his answer. He looked really pale on his face.

‘Yeah, fine. Lets get inside please’ he slightly smiled and opened the door for you. You walked inside and almost like it was a habit went towards the corner table that you took few days before. You sat down and he sat down in front of you. ‘So now you know’ he started. You shook your head and your eyes turned into question marks. Know what? What is going on.

‘Know what sorry?’ you asked him, trying to find answer in his eyes but he wasn’t really looking at you. He was avoiding eye contact as much as he could.

‘You don’t know?’ he looked up and met your face. He smiled, his expression completely changed but you were now freaked out. You had no idea what he was referring to and he seemed so cryptic and nervous.

‘I thought you googled my name. I didn't mean to send the email from my personal address, i just hit sent and...’ he sighted loud and grabbed the sunglasses from his brown beanie. He was wearing the same hat but the shirt was different.

‘I have not, but whatever it is..’ you started but he gave you his phone.

‘Might as well get it out of the way’ he muttered and he looked away from you. You took his phone in your hands and looked through the search results. A K-pop global 21st century star RM of BTS (also knowns as Kim Nam Joon). You looked up. You looked at him and then and the pictures that were linked to the search. Right. He is a someone famous. He is really famous and you are sitting in front of him. ‘Do not panic. Do not get star stuck. He is just a guy’ you told yourself in your head and you politely gave him his phone back, trying so hard for your hands to not shake. ‘Can we please keep this quiet?’ he whispered looking really worried.

‘Of course’ you nodded and smiled politely. He was still really nervous. And it didn’t seem to change even after you confirmed that you won’t start making fuss about him. Did he then not ask you out? Was it just to check if I found out who he was? ‘Was this why you wanted to see me?’ you gulped a little bit too loud than anticipated.

‘I wanted to see you again, like I said it seemed right that we met last time didn’t it?’ he added still nervous and put his phone away to his pocket. You were stunned again. This man really seemed to believe in fate. He got up from his chair ‘What do you drink?’ he smiled as he continued walking towards the till.

‘Flat white please’ you answered. You weren’t sure what was going on but his presence thug at something inside you. You felt this warmth and sincerity from him, incredible peace that was beaming from him even though he seemed tense.

‘Two flat whites to go please’ he ordered and came back to sit at the table ‘I hope you don’t mind a walk?’ you smiled and nodded again. It’s almost like you couldn’t really say anything. He was really famous and he actually did ask you out? He wasn’t cocky, he wasn’t harsh. He was so soft and warm.

You both picked up the coffee cups and left the place. And just like that you kept wandering around the streets drinking coffee and discussing all the paintings you have seen the other day. And then you started talking about Pachinko and you realised he did know the book really well and he was really fond of it. And he felts so soft and warm and familiar. And every time he looked at you, the familiar electric pop happened and the both of you would get shy and one of you would look away. Until it became so comfortable that you just kept staring without words, continuing the aniticpation and chemistry flying between the two of you. And you ended up sitting under the tree in a park, he almost obsessively took pictures of clouds and the sky and you kept teasing him about it. But then the you finished your coffees and you kept staring at the part whilst sitting at the tree. And when you both finished telling the story one of you would just stare and the other would join and it would be a silent staring concert, just not the silly and funny one. But really warm and soft one. And eventually he couldn’t really wait nor he wanted to and he leaned forward. And you got a little bit startled at first but you closed your eyes and you could feel soft tip of his nose right next to yours, and his breath smelling like the coffee you just had right around you. Just then the world could not exist because this gorgeous man was about to kiss you. And he did. He pulled you closer and his lips touched yours and you opened your eyes for just a second and so did he. And when your eyes met you knew there is no need for being nervous anymore because it felt just right. His soft lips on yours, him pulling you closer, his beanie slightly sliding from his head as you grabbed his cheek and you both got lost in the kiss and in each others embrace.

'Joon..' you whispered when you finally managed to come up for air.

'Yes?' he asked and his voice was so soft, so domestic and he just sounded like he was ready to give you his entire world.

But you didn't say anything else and leaned back to kiss him again.

You have kissed the global popstar, a very famous person. A really handsome man who took a picture of you in the gallery few days ago. The man who felt like home, safety and warmth from the very first minute you were around him. And just like that Kim Namjoon has healed your burnt out and all of your problems went away, because he was kissing you under a tree after you had a coffee date that lasted hours.

[byuljoonie]

please give me a remedy. (m) knj. my.

Somehow there are a million people around us and you’re all I can see.

pairing: namjoon x reader x yoongi

genre: smut, angst, fluff, yearning?

pt: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

word count: 3k+

warnings: thickening plot. give it a chance bcs she’s being polished. slight aggression. slow build up for yearning yoongi. namjoon is a dork in love. slight angst. him or me? friends to lovers. no smut yet.

summary: 2 of your 7 best friends have a secret…

note: sorry about my love for lowercase letters.😅I started this story in 2020 while I was a senior in high school…great plot but the writing?? definite no. older me with more experience as a published author is here to take control. still deeply in love with joon after 9 years so let me yearn in peace. Please feel free to leave feedback, I love constructive criticism and listening to your opinions! word count will increase drastically by chapter 2! have a listen to the playlist in my bio while you read the story! enjoy!

I sat back on the leather couch in the practice room absorbed in the way he looks while dancing. His black hair sticks sparsely to his forehead and his brow is furrowed in concentration. He hits each move perfectly, feeling the music as the song approaches its climax. How could he possibly be this sexy right now? The thought sent my mind into a frenzy of unrealistic fantasies. I would never want to ruin our bond but I can’t help but wonder how his soft hands would feel against my sensitive skin. Namjoon is definitely just my best friend, nothing more…sadly.

We met during my junior year of university and bonded over our love for books and art. Philosophy being my major and his minor, we ended up in the same required logic course to graduate. Our first interaction involved a forgetful Namjoon leaving all of his writing utensils at home, sheepishly tapping my sweater-covered shoulder to borrow a pen.

I'm suddenly pulled out of my reverie when I hear Hoseok loudly complain about being hungry. I was so caught up in my mind that I didn’t notice the song finished. He falls back into a nearby chair with sweat dripping from his forehead, glistening in the yellow-tinted light.

"I'll go grab some food just tell me what you want boys," I said quickly standing up and pulling on Namjoons black hoodie.

"How about I go with you?" Yoongi suggested calmly.

"NO, I mean no I'll go with her since I'm the leader you guys just take a break," Namjoon nervously reassured everyone. I heard Jin and Jimin snicker at his quickness to accompany me. Yoongi shifted unfazed by the younger members’ interception. We’re almost inseparable at times but my smile widens as my heart still flutters for the skilled rapper. Feeling the same as I did when I first met him. I gave Yoongi a small smile but he turned away. I frowned confused by his sudden mood change before we could finish talking.

"Y/N I want chicken," Taehyung said, pulling on the sleeve of my- I mean Namjoons hoodie.

The other boys agreed so Joon and I set off to the nearest open restaurant, hoping to stumble upon a hole in the wall. We walked in comfortable silence the street lights illuminating his honey skin, casting a glow around us. I always felt so safe when I’m with him. I feel safe with all of the members of course, but there’s a special soft spot for Joonie. I guess you could say my slight infatuation has developed into a crush, but nothing more can happen between us. The more being a secret drunken kiss from this past new year celebration.

Thinking about the members causes Yoongi’s face to flash through my mind. He seemed kinda hurt earlier and I should have said something. I don’t want them to think I only care about Namjoon. I love and appreciate all of them, especially Yoongi and Hoseok. Yoongi was the last to warm up to me, but the first to spoil me. His kindness and gummy smile always melt my heart. I turned to Namjoon hoping to spark conversation and ignore my persistent thoughts.

"Namjoon what are you thinking about?" I asked catching him staring off into space.

“Nothing you have to worry about Y/N,” he said dimples making a special appearance as he smiled at me.

I felt a chill run down my spine and the wind blew my hair into my face. I noticed a line of people waiting outside of a restaurant; the bright, neon yellow sign lit up the block with the words "열두시 치킨 집" (12am chicken house).

"Let's go here Joon it's fairly close to the company," I suggested.

"Sure I don't mind pet,” he stated turning away from me, missing his words.

"What?" I questioned with burning cheeks.

"I said yes Y/N let's go before the line gets too long." He stuttered at his slip-up.

I felt my face getting warmer at the pet name. I've never been called that before, I think I like the way it rolls off his tongue. His voice was rough from rapping all night and his eyes glimmered in the moonlight. I felt like a buzzing ball of energy and hormones. I might as well exhibit how many butterflies frequently inhabit my tummy. I was once again snapped out of my redundant fantasy world when Namjoon appeared beside me with 2 bags of food and a soda.

"Come on Y/N it's getting colder and the boys are probably starving,” he said.

"That was fast, did you skip the whole line, Monie?” I asked while trying to keep up with his usual fast stride.

"Maybe,” he said flatly.

I was now laughing at his seriousness all of a sudden. I can’t handle how these men switch moods like they do wardrobe changes. It was so cold at this point I couldn't feel my hands. I shivered and rubbed my hands together, teeth audibly clattering. When we finally made it back to the building I called Taehyung to buzz us back in.

“FINALLY," Hoseok screamed at the top of his lungs startlingly.

The boys gathered around the table which had been placed in the middle of the coffee-colored floor while Joon and I had been gone. I absentmindedly bit into the chicken, dropping crumbs on my new hoodie.

“Y/N seems like hyung's hoodie is looking very comfortable on you,” Jimin said smirking with grease-covered lips. I noticed how he glanced at Jin and Jk, weird but I kept that to myself.

“Matter of fact it's mine now and there's nothing Joonie can do about it," I smirked at Namjoon who seems to be ready to attack.

I was about to stop him when he grabbed my arms and pulled me into him. I was staring into his eyes embarrassingly hard when all of a sudden he-

“AHHHH NAMJOON STOP STOP,” I screamed laughing furiously as his hands tickled my stomach and sides.

“Address me properly Y/N and I'll stop," Namjoon said laughing with the rest of the members.

I didn't want to give in to his sick game but I was almost out of breath. The boys laughed loudly in the background, still enjoying their food.

“FINE FINE NAMJOON SSI NOW STOP,” I screamed giving up on my stubbornness.

"Good girl,” he cooed as he stopped his almost unwanted assault.

I quickly gathered myself off of the floor missing the close contact already, but not forgetting to give the boys the finger in the process. My ears get warmer as Namjoons words echo through my mind.

｡ₓ ू ₒ☆ * ✲୧( ○ ╹ ╹ ○ )୨✲ * ☆ ₒ ु ₓ｡

I start cleaning up the empty chicken boxes. Wiping off the table and pushing it back into a random corner. As I announced my departure Yoongi walked up to me quickly. Almost as if I would disappear in a split second if he didn't grab my arm. I felt goosebumps rise on my skin, but he must have felt them too because he swiftly released my arm. Rubbing the back of his neck slowly.

“Hey can you stop by my studio tomorrow to help me with something, I need a bit of inspiration?" Yoongi questioned.

“Hmmm, sure I'll be here at around 10 if that's okay," I said smiling softly. I gave him a hug and walked out the door before he can even respond. Was I being avoidant because of earlier or am I just tired? I choose to blame it on the array of confusing events and emotions that took place tonight.

“HEY! Y/N let me walk you home!" Namjoon grunted busting through the door.

I nodded and let him catch up to me; pushing my skirt down a little. Fuck. I should have talked to Yoongi, I blew him off just to let Namjoon swoop in and walk me home in light of my circumstances. Maybe I’m thinking too deeply about the situation but hopefully, things will be hashed out during our session later. My apartment wasn't very far from the big hit building so I already saw the convenience store that was placed next door to my place. The wind started blowing harder so we picked up the pace until we reached the door of my place.

"Maybe you should um text the boys to go home so they won't wait on you. Since it's really cold. Do you um want something to drink?" I stuttered out meekly.

“Sure Y/N." He said lowly.

I shivered at the tone of his voice. The way my own name crested my ears like a harmonious symphony, this man can seduce the devil. I walked to the fridge pulling out 2 beers. Trying to calm myself before I walked back. My palms started to sweat and I can hear my heartbeat increase with each step back.

“Here Monie," I said passing him his beer and sitting on the loveseat across from him. I popped mines open staring at the ceiling as I drank.

"Slow down babe you're gonna choke,” he playfully interjected with a grin.

"Make me," I said articulately throwing my pillow at him.

“Why are you sitting so far, there's a better seat right here." He said patting his lap.

My heart started racing again as I nearly choked on my beer. Did I hear him right?

"Ha... Namjoon quit joking around," I said producing a strained laugh.

"Who says I'm joking Y/N hm?" He questioned with his eyebrow quirked. I’m at his mercy and he knows it.

I squirmed in my seat for a second thinking of what made him so bold all of a sudden. I know I talk a big game but I’m already under his spell. He got up and walked towards me for what felt like a millisecond with those long, muscular legs. I was about to say something when a knock on the door interrupted me.

"Uh I-I'll get it," I said jumping up but not failing to nearly trip over my own feet. Very classy I thought to myself.

I open the door in surprise when I come face to face with 6 sleepy Bangtan members. They all shivered in the crisp air, their noses turning red.

"OH MY GOD GET IN HERE I THOUGHT YOU ALL WENT HOME!" I yelled while dragging them into my apartment. I locked the door and stared at them with a look of suspicion laced on my face. Taehyung looks very guilty as he shields himself behind a shorter Hoseok.

"Well, we missed you so much we wanted to have a sleepover with you and WE BROUGHT YOUR FAVORITE SNACKS!" Jungkook said lowly with Jimin chiming in to enthusiastically scream the rest.

"At this point, I'm accustomed to you guys showing up randomly, but a little warning would be nice next time," I said with a small smile, taking the snacks from Jimin.

"HOW COME NAMJOON HYUNG GETS TO STAY BEFORE WE DO!?" Taehyung yelled while running to jump on the couch.

"Because he walked me home and it was cold," I answered calmly. A breviloquent sigh slipped past my lips.

"I CALL DIBS ON WALKING Y/N HOME NEXT TIME!" Yoongi screamed chaotically.

"NO, I DO!" Seokjin said raising his voice.

The boys started arguing and I couldn't help but start laughing. I plopped down next to Namjoon almost sitting in his lap, seems like I missed my chance for that I thought. He must have noticed because he placed his hands on my hips to brace me onto the couch.

He stared into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity until Jimin brought us back to life with a piercing scream. My head snapped up only to see Taehyung picking Jimin up from the ground and shaking him.

"GUYS STOP IT BEFORE YOU BREAK SOMETHING, I will be walking myself home in the future if you don't relax," I admitted angrily.

Taehyung dropped Jimin to the floor with a thud and hung his head low. I stood up and asked Namjoon to come with me to get Blankets and pillows for the boys. Everything continued normally as Jungkook turned on the gaming console to begin his everlasting reign on Overwatch.

I walked down the hall and felt Namjoon's eyes burning holes into my back. We walked up to the closet and I grabbed a hearty amount of comforters and dropped them in front of me. I tried to reach for the pillows on the top shelf, but as I was struggling a strong pair of arms reached over my head and easily pulled me down the mountain of fluff.

"You know I can't help but find you so cute shorty." He said while smirking at my obviously warm face.

"I'm not short, I'm average height!" I said pouting with my arms crossed. He gently laughed and told me to pick up the pillows and go. I could listen to that sound all day.

When we walked back into the living room Yoongi was already asleep on the couch, Taehyung was playing a game with Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jimin emerged in watching the 2 other boys, and Jin was in the kitchen searching for God knows what.

"Here you guys go, I'm gonna head up to my room and inhale the snacks you brought me then sleep," I said while smiling.

“We think you should stay awake with us y/n, " Jin added from the kitchen.

"Let's play truth or dare," Jimin said with a sinister smile etched on his face. Oh no.

｡ₓ ू ₒ☆ * ✲୧( ○ ╹╹ ○ )୨✲ * ☆ ₒ ु ₓ｡

"Okay, truth or dare it is gentlemen. Let the game commence." I said with a light hesitant chuckle.

I sat next to Namjoon by habit. I felt his muscles tense when I sat close, but he relaxed when he felt my hand graze his thigh. The heat radiating from him warmed my skin in a way no has ever made me feel.

A couple of questions went by and it was Jimin's turn to ask. "Y/N truth or dare?" I thought about it for a second. "Truth,” I said rubbing my hands together nervously. "Ugh boring," he groaned. His eyebrows dipped in deep thought. Then he snapped, "I got it. Would you ever date Namjoon Hyung?"

My heart began to palpitate and I could feel the mist growing under my arms. All eyes were on me anticipating the answer to my question. "No, I don't think so. I mean we have a great friendship that I refuse to ruin. I’m not even his type." I mustered out as calmly as I could. The room was silent and the air grew dense around all of us. Namjoon looked visibly upset at Jimin. I shifted uncomfortably, silently begging God to take me right then and there. Why would I say that!? He thinks I’m an idiot I know he does.

"Well, who's next?" Taehyung asked. "ME!" Jungkook said breaking the silence quickly.

The questions continued for another hour before I decided to head to bed. The boys happily did any foolish dare that came to mind. Moments like these really help you cherish your friendships with those around you. A shattering pain erupts from my heart as I think about Namjoon’s mood shift during the rest of the game.

I rubbed my soar eyes before turning over and checking the time. 3 AM beamed in white on my alarm clock. The breeze from my opened window caused a shiver to course through me. I could hear faint voices and cars going along the road. I’ve always loved the sound of common nightlife. I assumed the boys were spread out wildly on my couch and floor. Even though the awkwardness cleared up, I still wanted to punch Jimin in the arm. My thoughts soon traveled to Namjoon and the mixture of surprise and frustration in his eyes when he stared at Jimin intensely. I wanted to know what was going on in his mind and why he seemed so serious earlier. The tricks my mind torture me with started to drive me crazy; I really need to talk to him and finally see if he feels what I feel. This empty yearning feeling can only be filled by my person. He is my person.

I tiptoed to the living room ever so quietly. I was greeted with the interesting sight of the boys wrapped in giant fluffy, white blankets. All of them looked so peaceful as their snores bounced off the walls of the room. I looked for Namjoon and he rested peacefully on the couch. His arms crossed over his broad chest, his lips parted slightly. He looked so beautiful I didn't want to wake him. I stepped over Taehyungs foot to sneak around to the front of the couch. I whispered Namjoon’s name quietly and he let out a half-hearted grumble.

"Joonie wake up, we need to talk please," I whispered one more time before he slowly peeled his almond-shaped eyes open.

"Y/N...what's wrong? Did I do some-"

I placed my manicured finger over my lips in order to hush him. He got quiet and stared at me calmly.

"Come with me," I said grabbing his big hand.

Just the feeling of his fingers entwined with mines made me quiver a little. The blanket slipped from his body as he got up, revealing that he was wearing only short, grey joggers that didn't do much to disguise his bulge. His skin was glowing as he stared at me with dreamlike eyes and his muscles looked so intoxicating that I almost passed out right there. If anything, it made me pull him up the stairs and into my bedroom expeditiously. I closed the door and sat him on the bed. He was staring at me as I stood by the door like a madwoman.

"Y/N why'd you bring me in here? Is everything alright? If this is about earl-"

Before he could finish his sentence I crossed the small space between us and kissed him. I felt him hesitate before he relaxed into the feeling. I perched myself on his lap finally breathing in his scent. He deepened the kiss and started to caress my back.

He lightly grabbed the back of my neck and pulled us apart. "I thought you didn't like me as much as I like you...but I guess you have other plans hmm?" He asked me with a smirk on his face.

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me please," I begged and pushed him so his back was resting on the bed. My knees were placed on either side of his hips, I grinned down at him and then continued my attack on his swollen lips. Not how I ideally imagined our first, non-intoxicated, kiss would be but still worth every second.

I smiled as the cool air graced my face. Legs sprawled out in an entangled mess. Soft shocks circulated through my body as Namjoon gently rubbed my thigh. The buzz of forgotten TV resonates in the back, but now only a mere thought. Cars pass by, honking at whatever they have going on. “A million,” he said. “A million?” I questioned confused at the aimless outburst. He sat up legs crossed pulling me closer away from the opposite side of my bed. “Let’s say there are a million people outside right now. In their own world doing whatever life has destined for them. They go to work, cook, and clean just like we do. Shit, some may even have servants and have never worked a day in their life, but they’re here right now. Just like we are. Somehow there are a million people around us and you’re all I can see y/n.”

｡ₓ ू ₒ☆ * ✲୧( ○ ╹╹ ○ )୨✲ * ☆ ₒ ु ₓ｡

12 pm, I slowly stirred in bed as the sun pierced through my window abruptly breaking my sleep. I felt around for the warm presence of a certain black-haired man but was met with an empty space. I heard a loud yell come from the kitchen and I knew the boys were awake and chatting away. I carefully threw my legs to the side of the bed to quietly get down. I crept to the kitchen entrance trying not to make a sound. I listened to them talk and make bets over if Joon and I fought. I covered my mouth trying not to laugh. Still, in a daze because of this morning's events, I didn't notice Namjoon sneak up behind me.

"Good morning beautiful." He smiled and his dimples appeared on his cheeks. I couldn't help but smile at the sight. He looked so handsome and disheveled in this natural morning state. I delicately covered his face in feather-like kisses before pulling him into another passionate kiss, which he gladly reciprocated. His hands rested on my hips and I wrapped my arms around his masculine shoulders. I felt him smile into the kiss; I giggled on his lips, the lips that said the most erotic things just a few hours before we made it to this point. Suddenly we heard a camera click and the boys screamed exposing the two of us, all giddy and shy in the hallway.

"I KNEW IT, YOU FUCKERS OWE ME 5 THOUSAND WON!" Jimin screamed and threw up a fist of victory in the air.

You all erupted in laughter but what you didn't notice was Yoongi grimacing in the corner.

[mortallydeepestobservation]

Glitter, glue, I love you

Summary: You and Namjoon have been married for quite some time, your relationship having only grown since you first met as bright-eyed students back in the day. Now, you're a passionate primary school teacher, and Namjoon is an inspiring college professor, both deeply invested in shaping young minds. This holiday season, after a long day at work, you find yourselves staying late to decorate your classroom. Namjoon, ever the considerate soul, swings by to pick you up, but of course, you take advantage of the opportunity and put him to work. As you hang twinkling lights and arrange paper snowflakes, the conversation takes a meaningful turn. In the midst of the holiday madness, you talk about your future, and the idea of starting a family emerges… Best Christmas gift ever. Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: Fluff and smut. Married couple Au. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: this is honestly just a fluffy slice of life drabble. Namjoon is clumsy, and whipped. Spandex? drinking. Smut warnings: soft dom Namjoon, big cock Namjoon, oral (m and f receiving) praise, multiple positions, a little overstimulation, just a smidge of breeding kink. Word count: 14k Author’s note: Okay. I know I have an ongoing story, but I do this thing, where I get overwhelmed with life and just blurt out a whole drabble. Usually in those moments the story I’m already working on drives me insane, so I… do this. sorry?😊 thank you sweet sweet @callmenoona25 for accepting my... quirk when i just drop a whole new fic on your lap out of nowhere lol. Thank you @rpwprpwprpwprw For the perfectly aesthetic joonie photos!

(fun fact, i used to know a baby chicken little. He'd always break his glasses down the middle) Merry Christmas everyone!❄️🎄

Your new crafting scissors glided against the construction paper with ease. A flurry of cut-off bits, small pieces of colourful paper, glitter, pompoms, and anything else that merely resembled a Christmas theme littered your classroom floor.

A delightful chaos surrounded you—scraps of red, green, and gold paper mingled with stray stickers, twisted up pipe cleaners, and the occasional orphaned googly eye. It was a mess, the kind only a classroom holiday crafting session could conjure, and yet here you were, adding more to it.

The new scissors, sharp and precise, were a joy to wield, effortlessly turning construction paper into stars, trees, and snowflakes. You got so absorbed in your work that the mountain of scrap paper piling up next to your desk barely registered anymore.

The room was silent now. The kiddos had left hours ago, followed by a parent-teacher conference and a staff meeting to finalize plans for the upcoming Christmas holiday party. By the time you returned to your classroom, the exhaustion was bone-deep, and the sight of the disaster awaiting you made you groan.

But as you approached your desk and spotted a few abandoned crafts—a lopsided tree, a glue-smeared snowman—a spark of creativity flickered to life. The supplies were already out, and with autumn decorations still clinging to the walls, you figured you might as well get a head start on transforming the room into a winter wonderland before the weekend.

You lost yourself in the rhythm of cutting and crafting, glueing and arranging, the silence of the empty classroom wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was practically the only moment during the long, exhausting day when you could to sit down and just let your thoughts wonder.

You were so focused that you didn’t notice the sun setting—or the faint creak of your classroom door opening.

“Mrs. Kim, it seems my wife forgot to come home today after class.”

You froze mid-snip, the scissors poised in your hand, a half-finished snowflake dangling from your grip. The familiar voice carried a teasing warmth that made your cheeks flush before you spun around in your chair, to catch a glimpse.

Standing in the doorway was you husband, Namjoon, leaning casually against the doorframe with that playful grin you loved (or occasionally cursed for how easily it could fluster you).

His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up, and his coat draped over one arm, a telltale sign that he’d come straight from his own long day at work. Yet his smile was bright, his tired eyes twinkling with delight upon seeing you, like he was about to tell you the best pun he ever heard.

“You know, most people would’ve taken that parent-teacher meeting as their cue to call it a day,” he teased, crossing his arms. His gaze swept over the room, taking in the colourful chaos, before settling on you.

“Well,” you started, trying to sound casual as you placed your scissors on the desk and brushed the glitter from your hands, leaning back against the chair. “After that I also had a staff meeting.”

His grin widened. “Did you cut out the staff out of paper?”

You huffed at his playful remark, picking up a pompom from the desk and tossing it in his direction. The fluffy projectile sailed weakly through the air before plopping to the floor with an overly dramatic bounce, getting lost in the multicoloured mess on the ground. “Very funny, Mr. Kim,” you said, shaking your head as you reached for your scissors to finish the snowflake.

Namjoon laughed, stepping into the room, his footsteps soft against the glitter-dusted floor. “I prefer clever over funny.”

You mused, pretending to consider his suggestion. “I’ll agree when you grab some paper and make something clever yourself.”

Namjoon chuckled, shaking his head. “No way. I’m just here to admire the handiwork—And maybe rescue my wife before she buries herself in glitter.”

“Too late for that.” You laughed, showing him the underside of your hands, covered in an array of colourful plastic bits and flecks of glitter.

He laughed too, his warmth filling the classroom as he settled into a nearby chair. He watched you with quiet amusement as you snipped away the final pieces of the snowflake.

Once done, you brushed the remains off the desk with a casual sweep of your hand, letting the scraps fall to the already messy floor. Reaching for a spool of string, you began tying a loop to hang the snowflakes.

“You know,” you said, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, “I was just thinking I could use a tall, handsome man to help me hang these from the ceiling.”

His dimples deepened slightly as his lips curled into a smirk. “Should I fetch the principal for you?”

“God, no!” you exclaimed, shooting him a mock-horrified look.

Namjoon’s laughter echoed again, and he stood, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of your chair. “Fine. Lucky for you, I happen to know a tall, handsome man who’s free to lend a hand. On one condition.”

“And that is?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you handed him the snowflake.

“I get to take you out for dinner afterwards.”

“You hang up my décor and I don’t have to cook dinner?” you said with a grin, watching as he reached up to hang the snowflake with ease. “You’ve got yourself a deal, my love.”

Namjoon smirked as he hooked the snowflake onto the ceiling, his long fingers adjusting it so it hung perfectly. “Don’t get too excited. You’re paying, and I’m starving,” he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you handed him another snowflake. “Starving? You make it sound like you haven’t eaten all day.”

“I haven’t eaten enough,” he corrected, taking the snowflake and hanging it with the same care as the first. “Besides, all this helping is hard work. I’m burning calories just by existing in this glitter cloud.”

“Poor baby,” you teased, before standing up and stretching as much as possible, waiting for that satisfying pop that made your back come to life after sitting at your desk for hours.

While Namjoon made remarkable progress on the snowflakes, you retrieved your broom and vacuum cleaner, trying to salvage the floor and not declare war with the cleaning staff in the process.

Once it finally started looking like a classroom again—crayons arranged, glue sticks all capped and drawings proudly hung up on the walls —you fetched your seasonal décor box from the supply closet, gathering the autumn leaves and acorns as you went.

The sound of Namjoon’s soft humming filled the room as he continued to hang the rest of the snowflakes. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, so effortlessly blending into your little world. His tall frame moving with ease as he reached up to secure another delicate snowflake.

“You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?” you teased, carefully arranging the autumn décor for storage.

“Just trying to make your life easier,” Namjoon replied, his voice warm. He stepped back to admire his work, hands on his hips like he’d just solved a complex philosophy problem.

You smiled, unrolling the fairy lights on your desk, silently thanking your teacher assistant for her knack for packing them neatly and knot-free.

“Think you can help me with this too?”

When you looked up, you noticed Namjoon standing next to the wall where your classroom photo was hung up. It was a large picture of you surrounded by your students, all laughing and holding colourful balloons.

The parents had given it to you as a gift on the first day of this school year, though it had been taken during the end-of-year celebration when your little first graders graduated.

Around the group photo, you’d carefully arranged individual pictures of each child, their names neatly written underneath and decorated with felt stickers.

Namjoon stood quietly, his eyes scanning the display with a soft smile tugging at his lips. His expression was a mix of pride and warmth, the kind that never failed to make your heart flutter.

“What’s baby Chicken Little up to?” he asked, glancing over at you, the playful nickname making you giggle.

Last year your heart had been stolen by a little boy named Minjun, who made it his yearlong mission to bring you a leaf or a flower every single day of school. His little backpack was almost as big as he was, and he’d always greet you with the brightest, most infectious smile when he walked through the door, before dropping the little plant on your desk and giving you an adorable bow.

You’d told Namjoon all about him at the end of each day, and when you proudly showed him the photo you’d snapped of Minjun on your phone, Namjoon cooed and playfully nicknamed him baby Chicken Little. All because of his “iconic green glasses,” which happened to bear an uncanny resemblance to the ones the animated character wore.

“He’s doing really well. A little genius when it comes to multiplications, although his calligraphy could use some work.”

Namjoon chuckled, his dimples making an appearance as he glanced back at Minjun’s photo. “Multiplications, huh? Guess he’s already ahead of the curve.”

You smiled fondly, scavenging through your storage boxes for the chalk markers. “He’s a sharp one. Always so curious. His mom says he’s been teaching his little sister how to count using her barbie dolls.

Namjoon’s expression softened further. “Sounds like a future teacher in the making.”

You giggle, “Only if he can pass your philosophy 101 class in college.”

“Oh, come on! You know I’m not as mean as you make me out to be.”

You raised an eyebrow, pausing your search for the chalk markers to give him a teasing look. “Not as mean? Should I remind you about that one student—what was his name? Jungkook? —who said your essay prompts were harder than his organic chemistry final?”

Namjoon groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “That was one time! And he clearly didn’t read the syllabus.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, stifling a laugh as you finally found the markers, holding them up triumphantly. “I’m just saying, if Minjun wants to pass your class, he better start practicing his critical thinking skills now.”

Namjoon crossed his arms, feigning offense. “For the record, my students love me. I’m approachable, insightful, and, dare I say... inspiring.”

You watched as Namjoon gave you that challenging look, daring you to tease him further. But deep down, you knew 100% that he was right.

After all, he’d proudly told you about Jungkook— the ‘Muscle Bunny’—who, by the end of the year, would refuse to leave the classroom after lessons, just for a chance to talk with Namjoon about everything from philosophy to general life issues. (And on more than one occasion, you had to swing by the college to collect your husband, because they were both so emersed in the conversation.)

Sure, Jungkook may have started out as a bit of a tough nut, but by the end of the semester, he was one of Namjoon’s biggest fans.

You chuckled softly at the thought. Namjoon had a way of drawing people in, even the most unlikely candidates. It’s what made him such an outstanding teacher. And you couldn’t be happier that you managed to snatch him up before he even graduated with his teacher’s degree.

“I know you are.” You said honestly, watching his posture soften, his eyes almost twinkling with delight at the compliment.

Namjoon’s dimples deepened, and he turned back to look at the photos on the wall. A comforting silence falling over the classroom again as you started drawing with the chalk markers on the windows.

It was just as you were finishing the last details of the snowman that Namjoon spoke again, his voice steady but carrying a weight that immediately caught your attention.

“Do you think we’d make good parents?”

The question hung in the air, quiet and unexpected, causing you to freeze mid-stroke. Your hand suspended, the tip of the marker just inches away from the snowman’s little top hat. You hadn’t expected that. Namjoon had always been thoughtful, but this… this was something entirely different.

You turned slowly, finding him looking at you, his expression unreadable but soft. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure why he asked the question, but was waiting for your answer nonetheless.

“Good parents?” you repeated, your voice quieter than usual, the weight of the question settling into your chest. It wasn’t just a casual inquiry—it felt loaded and significant. It felt like he was asking something deeper, something that might change your life in the very near future.

Namjoon seemed to notice the shift in the atmosphere, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes again. His lips parted slightly, as if trying to find the right words, but instead, he stayed silent, letting the question linger.

You cleared your throat, your thoughts racing. Was he asking about parenting techniques? Was this a hypothetical question, or was there something more to it? You couldn’t quite tell. But the thought of it—of you and Namjoon as parents—flashed across your mind, and for a split second, you felt a warmth spread in your chest.

You’d talked about your future many times—even while you were still just dating—and you both agreed you wanted kids. But there was never a set timeline or a specific goal you wanted to reach before starting a family.

You took a slow breath, trying to gather your thoughts as the weight of the question settled in your mind. The idea of having a baby—it was something you’d talked about casually, even dreamt about in passing. But now, with his eyes on you, the conversation suddenly felt real, more tangible than it ever had before.

You finally put the chalk marker down on the desk, turning fully to face him. “You’ve asked me before about the future,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. “But this... this feels different. Are you asking because you’re actually thinking about it?”

Namjoon looked at you, his eyes soft but filled with a quiet intensity that made your cheeks heat up. “I mean-” he said after a beat, his voice almost uncertain. “I guess I’ve been thinking about it more lately, especially with everything we’ve built together. I don’t think we can get any more financially stable. And we’ve got a good thing, right? We work well as a team. I just... I wonder what it would be like to take that next step, with you.”

Your heart nearly exploded, a big grin spreading across your face that would certainly make your cheeks hurt if you kept it up. He had a way of making everything feel possible, of making you believe in the future even when you didn’t have all the answers. The thought of raising kids with him, of teaching them the way you both wanted to, filled you with an overwhelming sense of warmth and certainty.

“I think we’d be great,” you said, your voice full of honest affection. “We’d make an amazing team. I know we’ve got the love, the patience, and the understanding to do it.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you, as if taking in your words, before a soft smile crept onto his face.

You knew you weren’t about to get a confirmation from him, not now at least. Namjoon needed to steep in his thoughts a bit more before he would finally and ultimately tell you he wants a baby.

Still, his smile lingered, and he slowly nodded, as if to affirm your words without needing to say anything else just yet.

The silence between you both felt comfortable, like a promise for the future—an unspoken understanding that this was a conversation that didn’t need to be rushed.

After a moment, he reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch soft but sure.

“I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and peace settle in your chest. Even despite hearing those same exact words come out his mouth millions of times, they still wrapped around you like a protective embrace, making everything else, every worry, every unfinished plan and every glitter-littered snowflake fade into the background.

You leaned into his touch, savouring the moment. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice steady but filled with the same devotion that was in his eyes.

He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, before glancing around the classroom, “What did you ask me to do?”

“Fairy lights, Joon.”

Namjoon chuckled softly at your reminder, his fingers still lingering on your cheek for a moment before he stepped back. “Right, right,” he said, shaking his head. “I got distracted from the important things.”

You watched him walk toward the desk to finish hanging the fairy lights, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you returned to your drawing. The weight of the earlier conversation still lingered in the air, but it left you with a spark of excitement.

As he carefully draped the lights along the chalkboard, you noticed how effortlessly he moved, how much care he put into making sure everything was perfect. You’d always admired that about him—his attention to detail, his quiet confidence in everything he did. And now, with every little task, you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of certainty.

“Almost done,” Namjoon called out, glancing over his shoulder. You gave him a thumbs-up, your smile widening as he finished the last strand of lights.

The classroom now looked like a cozy little haven, with the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a gentle warmth over the space. Everything felt perfect.

 You capped your marker once the windows were done, and walked over to your desk to organize a little bit, putting away the potentially dangerous supplies, before closing the drawers and the boxes.

Namjoon stood beside you, his hands in his pockets as he admired the room. “It’s impressive, I’ll give you that. But it’s still missing one thing.”

You frowned, stopping mid-motion, to glance around. “What’s that?”

He reached down, gently tugging you to your feet and closing the last box for you. “Us. Out of here, enjoying a well-deserved dinner.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, grabbing his coat and your bag before stepping away from the desk. Namjoon fetched your coat from the hanger, draping it over your shoulders with a soft smile. He then took your hand, a firm but gentle hold, and started guiding you toward the door, almost certain that if he didn’t, you’d find something else to do.

As you walked together, you paused by to the classroom pet cage, drawn by the soft rustling inside. The little chinchilla scamped out of his enclosure and over to the bars, his nose twitching as he looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes.

“Did I tell you we need to take Professor Fluff this Christmas break?” You asked, grabbing a treat from the nearby jar and tossing it into the cage, watching as the chinchilla eagerly snatched it up and started nibbling on it.

Namjoon, holding the door open for you, tilted his head as you walked back to him.

“Wasn’t it Teacher Assistant Park’s turn?”

“She’s pregnant, Namjoonie. She can’t.”

You slipped your hand into his, smiling as his fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the dimly lit school halls.

“She should be able to handle a chinchilla if she expects to take care of a baby.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “No, babe, it’s about allergies.”

Namjoon sighed dramatically but couldn’t fully hide his grin. “That settle it. Definitely getting you pregnant. Even if only for the perks —wife comes home on time, and I get to have her all to myself for the holidays.”

You blushed furiously at his comment, a big, droopy smile tugging on your lips.

“Oh, come on. How much time do you think Professor Fluff is going to keep me occupied?” you tease, bumping your shoulder against him as you walk.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, playful glint in his eyes. “With what I have planned for you, more than I like.” he replied, pulling the door shut behind him as the two of you stepped out into the crisp evening air.

You laugh, your cheeks still warm from the blush he had put there. Namjoon's teasing always had a way of making your heart flutter, but this time, there was something deeper in his words—something that felt like it carried a promise.

“I swear, you really know how to keep me on my toes,” You glanced up at him, feeling the warmth of his touch on your hand as he guided you out into the crisp evening air.

He grinned, pulling you closer to him as you made your way to the car. “That's the idea. Keep you guessing, keep you interested.” He gave you a wink, the playful glint never leaving his eyes, even as he opened the driver’s door for you.

“I don’t think you need to work too hard at it. You're already the most interesting person I know.” You said when he settled into the passengers seat.

Namjoon's smile softened, and for a moment, you could see the sincerity behind his teasing demeanour.

“I like that you think that,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, as he slowly leaned over the console to catch your lips in a sweet kiss.

You melted into him, the soft press of his lips against yours lingering for just a moment longer than usual, making your heart race. It was the type of kiss that had you coming back for more, the kind that melted all your worries away, and made you feel like you two were the only ones in the world.

As he pulled away, he gave you a playful smile, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “Now please drive. I’m starving.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden shift in tone, your heart still fluttering from the lingering kiss.

“Always about food with you,” you sigh, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. “I guess I'll just have to accept that food is your first love.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, his expression turning mischievous. “Well, if food's my first love, you, my dear, are my favourite dessert.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, a mix of amusement and affection swirling inside you, butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach.

You glanced over at him, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Is that so?” You said, your voice teasing as you focused on the road.

Namjoon's grin widened; his eyes gleaming. “Absolutely. You’re sweet, irresistible, and I could spend hours between your legs.”

A flush crept up your cheeks as your grip on the steering wheel tightened, the tension between you two shifting. His words hung in the air, teasing but also carrying an edge that made your pulse quicken.

“Keep talking like that and I'm taking you home,” you threatened.

Namjoon’s expression shifted in an instant from playful to mock-serious. “No, no,” he whined, leaning back into the seat with a dramatic sigh. “I promise I'll be good.”

You giggle. “What do you want to eat then?”

He lit up again, his mock seriousness giving way to his usual enthusiasm. “That little BBQ place that opened up down the street from us.”

“The one you haven’t stopped talking about since they put up the ‘coming soon’ sign?”

“That’s the one,” he admitted unabashedly, his grin growing wider “It’s fate. They opened just in time for us to have the perfect date.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you turned the car toward home. “I guess it is. But I’m parking at home and we can walk—that way, I can drink too.”

“Oh, is my baby planning to get wasted tonight?” he teased, his tone light and playful.

“No,” you chuckled, glancing at him with a smirk. “But I know for a fact you’re going to order that fancy whiskey you always get, and I don’t want to be stuck as the designated driver.”

Namjoon laughed, his deep dimpled grin lighting up his face. “Fair point. That whiskey is worth the walk. And hey, I’ll carry you home if you have one too many.”

You rolled your eyes, a fond smile on your lips. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. It hasn’t been such a bad week” you smile at him, “But I won’t say no to being spoiled by you a little.”

“Always,” he replied without missing a beat. “I’ll spoil you every chance I get.”

You couldn't help but grin at his words, the warmth in his voice making your blush reappear. There was something so comforting in the way he always knew how to make you feel special, how he was so genuine in every little thing he did for you.

“So, you’re paying tonight?”

“Nope,” he smiled, popping the p, and earning a heartfelt laughter from you.

As the two of you approached your home, you turned the car into the driveway, the familiar sight of your house welcoming you. Namjoon was already getting out of the car, his excitement for the evening palpable.

“Let me grab my bag, and we’ll head out,” you said, stepping out of the car and locking it. Namjoon waited by the gate, glancing around as the evening air started to cool, a few stray little snowflakes lazily drifting through the air. The stars above twinkled in the dark sky, and the soft hum of the city around you made it feel like the world had slowed down just for the two of you.

“Ready?” he asked as you approached him, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Let’s go,” you replied with a grin, your arm slipping through his. You walked down the quiet street together, the comfortable rhythm of your steps matching each other effortlessly.

The neighbourhood was peaceful, with only a few cars passing by, and the crisp air reddening the tip of your nose. As you reached the corner of the street, the warm glow of the BBQ restaurant came into view. The scent of grilled meat and spices filled the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation, and reminding you your last meal was breakfast, many hours ago.

“There it is,” Namjoon said, his voice full of excitement. “I’ve been dreaming of this all week.”

You laughed, the sound easy and full of affection. “It’s definitely been a long time coming, huh?”

“Worth the wait,” he replied, grinning.

As you entered the restaurant, the cozy atmosphere wrapped around you, and the delicious smells only heightened your anticipation. Namjoon gave you a playful glance, watching as you all but jump with excitement, before leading you to a little booth. You, of course, slid in next to him, and cuddled up against his side as you waited for the waiter. Namjoon grinned as you cuddled up against his side, his arm naturally wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. The booth was small, but cozy, and the warm lighting of the restaurant made it feel like a private little nook just for the two of you.

As you settled in, your gaze drifted to the menu, although, truthfully, you were more focused on the tall and handsome man next to you. His warm presence besides you, the way he always seemed to know exactly how to make you feel safe and cared for. The man who wanted a family with you, who would undoubtedly take perfect, tender care of your little human being, and who would hang out at the museum talk hours on end about his favourite pieces with the kiddo, like they could grasp every single concept. Before, undoubtedly trying to teach your baby the deepest philosophy concepts ever, and five different musical instruments all at once.

The waiter soon approached, and Namjoon, with his usual confidence, ordered for the both of you without missing a beat. He didn’t even need to ask what you wanted—he already knew. A small smile tugged at your lips as you watched him. He always did that, always taking care of things in his own calm, capable way. It was one of the many things you loved about him.

Once the drinks arrived—a neat whiskey bottle that you couldn’t remember the name of—you clinked your glasses together in a soft toast.

“To perfect dates,” Namjoon said with a glint in his eye, his voice warm and filled with affection as he held his glass up to yours.

“To many more to come,” you replied, your voice light but sincere, the sound of it carrying a promise in the air between you.

The glass met with a soft clink, and the warmth of the whiskey settled in your chest as you took your first sip, savouring the smooth, smoky flavour. Namjoon mirrored your actions, the ice in his glass gently clinking as he took a long sip, never breaking his gaze from you.

You smiled at him, the familiar tenderness filling your heart, a slow, easy feeling of contentment settling over you. There was something special about moments like this—about sharing time in each other’s presence, just the two of you, with no outside distractions.

It reminded you of your first few dates, back when you two were both overworked students with a seriously high number of sleepless nights, and a very poor diet consisting mostly of cola and noodles. Back when he was so nervous that he basically talked to himself the whole date, stumbling over his words in a rush to make the ‘conversation flow’, but still managing to make you laugh with his awkward charm. You didn’t tease him about it back then, how could you? When he’d look at you like you could single-handedly change the world with a flutter of your eyelashes.

And when you agreed to a second date, he gave you the biggest, cheesiest smile you ever saw, before accidentally bumping into you as he leaned down to kiss your cheek, somehow managing to smack you in the face with his forehead.

You froze for a second, both of you staring at each other in stunned silence, before he apologized in a flurry and left you alone and confused in front of your dorm room.

Imagine his surprise when you called him for details about the promised second date.

Even so, there was never a moment when Namjoon ever made you feel unsafe, or like he was going out with you just to make up for his awkwardness. No, despite his nervousness, he always made sure you felt valued, cherished, and like you were the most important person in the room. That was one of the things you’d grown to love about him. He was sincere in every gesture, every word, even when he felt uncertain about himself.

That second date he got to kiss you right.

You had both come a long way since then. The clumsy first kiss was just a part of the story now, a little cherished memory that always brought a warm smile to your lips whenever you thought about it. You’d grown together since that day, and with each date, each shared moment, your bond had only deepened.

Now, here you were, sitting next from him, your husband, in this cozy little restaurant, enjoying the warmth of the whiskey and the various dishes that the waiter brought out for you.

Everything felt right. There was no doubt in your mind that this, right here, was exactly where you were meant to be.

Namjoon caught your eye, a small, playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re smiling to yourself.”

“I’m happy,” you replied simply.

Namjoon softened, his eyes filled with warmth as he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone. “Me too,” he said, his words wrapping around your heart and making it jump in your chest. You quickly leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, giggling a bit when he let out a soft, surprised puff, his eyes widening slightly at the unexpected gesture. “What was that for?” he asked, his voice light with amusement but still smooth .

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, the devotion in your gaze unwavering. “For making me happy. And for hanging the snowflakes in my classroom.” You paused for a quick second, before smirking. “And for paying for dinner?”

Namjoon chuckled, his dimpled smile lighting up his face. “Nope.”

He laughed at your fake little pout, before holding out his chopsticks to you. “Here, try this.”

You opened your mouth wide, waiting for him to feed you the piece of beef he cooked, only for it to fall from his chopsticks and right on your button-down shirt.

You both froze for a moment, staring at the little piece of beef resting on your chest. Namjoon blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief before he broke into a fit of laughter, his deep voice filling the space between you two.

“Smooth,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you reached for the beef and popped it into your mouth, before grabbing a napkin to wipe away the mess on your shirt.

“I'm so sorry,” Namjoon said, still laughing, but his voice filled with genuine concern. “I swear I aimed for your mouth.”

You dabbed the spot on your shirt, trying to suppress your own laughter. “That’s what he said.”

At that little comment he gave you a deep belly laugh, a hand covering his mouth, before grabbing another napkin for you.

“I’ll take it to the cleaners tomorrow. I’m sorry.” He still giggled like a little kid watching you try to rub the stain away.

You couldn't help but smile, your heart warm at the small, sweet gesture. “I think it’s fine,” you said, your voice softening as you met his eyes. “It's just a shirt. But it’s the thought that counts.”

Namjoon tilted his head, his dimpled grin returning. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, leaning in slightly, his voice lower and softer. “I swear.”

The temptation to flirt back tugged at you, but the urge to tease him was simply too strong to resist.

“You can start by not burning the rest of the meat on the grill.”

“Shit!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction as he whipped around to check the grill. The sizzling sound of beef filled the air, and he immediately sprang into action, grabbing the tongs and flipping the steaks with exaggerated haste.

“Shit, shit!” he muttered under his breath, his hands moving quickly but still a little too late to save the edges of the tender cuts from burning.

You couldn’t help but laugh, watching the frantic yet adorable way he tried to salvage the meal. "Maybe next time, don’t get so distracted by my chest," you teased, leaning back in your chair with a sly grin

“I swear I’m a better cook when I’m not trying to impress you.” he confessed with an embarrassed smile that made your heart pick up again.

“Why are you still trying to impress me? You’re already getting in my pants tonight.” You flutter your eyelashes up at him, leaning into his side.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered under his breath, focusing back on the grill with renewed determination.

You let out a laugh, unable to resist bugging him further. “Come on, Namjoonie, you don’t have to work this hard for me. I’m already sold. Burned beef and all.”

He shot you a quick look over his shoulder, his dimple making a reappearance as he smirked. “Oh, I know you’re sold. But I still have to keep my reputation intact. Can’t have you thinking you married a man who can’t even grill properly.”

You shrugged playfully. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly drawn to you for your cooking skills to begin with.”

Namjoon smirked, his eyes briefly flicking to yours with a teasing glint before he said, “Good. Then I guess my other skills will have to do now too.”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on you, and you raised an eyebrow, “Careful, Mr. Kim. You keep that up, and I’m taking you home.”

Namjoon’s laugh was loud and deep, echoing around the room as he handed you the piece of meat. “Eat first,” he said with mock seriousness, his tone firm but the amusement dancing in his eyes betrayed him. “And you’re getting dessert too.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, smirking “You’re just going to eat half of whatever I pick, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he admitted shamelessly, his grin widening in triumph, dropping some veggies on your plate too.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your laugh as you reached for the menu. “Fine. Let’s get the profiteroles. They look amazing, and you can’t mess up sharing that.”

Namjoon arched a brow. “Are you implying I messed up sharing earlier?”

You shot him a pointed look, lips twitching with amusement. “There’s beef on my shirt, Namjoon.”

Namjoon paused mid-grin, glancing down at your chest, before letting out a sheepish laugh. “Okay, okay, point taken. No more distractions.” He turned back to the grill, but not without throwing you a cheeky wink first. “Although, just for the record, you’re quite distracting when you wear that skirt.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “I swear, you're impossible.”

Yet there wasn’t even a crumb of conviction in your tone.

The evening carried on naturally, the warmth of the alcohol and the steady rhythm of conversation made everything feel comfortable. The intimate little interludes— the flirting, teasing, the way his eyes never strayed far from you—kept the energy between you two charged. You weren’t sure whether it was the drinks, or Namjoon’s smile, or a mix of both, but you couldn’t deny the way everything felt amplified. You were tipsy, needy, and feeling more than a little flushed.

Namjoon noticed it before you did, that little shift in the air around you. He leaned in, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he casually placed his hand over thigh. “You’re looking a little red,” he remarked softly, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made a shiver run down your spine.

You tried to laugh it off, shifting slightly in your seat. “I think I might’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

“Mm, I noticed,” he said, his voice smooth, low. He didn’t pull his hand away, but instead gave your leg a gentle squeeze, before moving his hand higher up edging the seam of your skirt, “You look adorable though.”

A soft heat spread through you, making your heart beat in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. There was something in his gaze—something undeniably intense—that made the air between you feel thick. Like you could just eat him up, and he’d thank you.

“Do I need to carry you home?”

“No.” You swallowed, shifting your eyes away. “But you should stop looking at me like that. You’re making me blush.” You replied, trying to play it off, but your words felt like they were slipping from your lips a little too easily. You could feel his gaze on you, assessing, as if he knew exactly what you were trying to hide.

Namjoon’s gaze softened, and the corner of his mouth quirked up as he leaned in a fraction closer. His thumb gently stroked your skin, the simple touch sending a spark of heat straight to your core. “Am I?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made your stomach twist in the most wonderful of ways.

You tried to steady your breath, but it felt impossible under the weight of his attention. “Yes.”

“Good,” he smirked.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, not sure whether it was a plea or a warning.

The playful banter felt more like a slow burn now, the kind that lingered in the spaces between your words and between your slowed movements.

 “Mm?”

“Please get the tab, so I can pay and we can go.”

Namjoon’s lips curled, his fingers still moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“Impatient, baby?” He murmured, his voice deeper now, like he was savouring the effect he was having on you.

You nodded, the growing need clouding your thoughts. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible. “I want to go home.”

He leaned in slightly, his face just inches from yours, and for a moment, everything else seemed to blur out of existence. His breath was warm against your skin, and the weight of his gaze made you feel both exposed and electrified. It didn’t even register that you were out in public anymore, or that there were other patrons around. The only thing on your mind was his dark eyes staring at you.

“Alright,” he said, his voice low and steady, his smirk never wavering. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

He slid his hand off your leg, but not without one last lingering touch—soft, deliberate, and devastating—leaving you absolutely wrecked as he leaned back to call the waiter.

(Of course, he didn’t even let you see the tab, snatching it up and paying for your meal without a second thought.)

Every movement of his was slow, measured, like he knew exactly where your limit was and he was drawing it all out with maddening precision. The air between you thickened with unspoken tension, humming in the spaces where his fingers lingered, where his gaze met yours.

And when he brushed your hair to the side to help you slip into your coat, his hand found the back of your neck, resting there for just a second longer than necessary—firm and warm, enough to leave your heart pounding and your mind spinning.

The moment the door of the restaurant swung open, a gust of cold air hit you, the crisp night biting at your skin. The alcohol in your blood dulled slightly, replaced by the clarity of the chill as you instinctively pulled your coat tighter around you. Yet, the thin fabric did little to shield you from the cold, the breeze slipping through the seams.

Namjoon was right beside you, his sharp eyes scanning the darkened street as if the cold didn’t faze him at all. With a glance your way, he stepped closer, shrugging his own coat higher on his shoulders before slipping his arm around you without hesitation. His hand rested lightly on your back, the weight of it both grounding and comforting.

His warmth beside you was enough to make the walk more bearable, and the anticipation bubbling inside you made it all worthwhile.

He turned to you, a slight smile on his lips. “Cold out here, huh?” he said, his breath visible in the night air, quickly leading you towards your home.

You nodded, pulling your scarf up a little higher to shield your face from the cold.

Without a word, Namjoon slid his arm around your shoulders, tucking you closer to his side. His touch was casual yet deliberate, like he didn’t need permission but still silently asked for it. The fabric of his coat was rough against your cheek, but his body heat bled through, chasing away the chill that had started to seep into your skin.

The street was quiet, the glow of streetlights casting long, soft shadows as you walked side by side. Those shy snowflakes from earlier now growing bolder, swirling down in earnest. They clung to your hair and coat, melting into tiny droplets against the warmth of your skin.

Namjoon’s hand shifted after a while, slipping down to find yours. Without hesitation, he slid both into the pocket of his coat, the gesture so natural and intimate that it made your stomach flutter anew. His thumb brushed over your knuckles absently, a small but steady movement that set your heart racing. Each step brought you closer together, your shoulders brushing now and then, as you neared your house.

His presence, the solid warmth of him beside you, was more than enough to keep the chill at bay.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice cutting through the crisp night air as he glanced over at you.

You nodded, your breath forming soft clouds in the cold. “Yeah. This is nice.”

Namjoon chuckled. “Nice? You’re freezing.”

“You’re hot.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, accompanied by a fit of giggles that felt almost too loud in the still night. The alcohol still hummed faintly in your system, loosening your tongue, but it was worth it just to see Namjoon stutter, his eyebrows raising.

And then he laughed, full and rich, the sound reverberating through you. “Wow,” he murmured, shaking his head with an amused smile. His cheeks tinged pink—maybe from the cold, maybe not—as he reached into his other pocket, pulling out his set of keys.

“Smooth,” he teased, glancing sideways at you as he fiddled with them, making quick work of finding the right one. The lock clicked open, and he stepped aside to let you in first, the warmth of the indoors beckoning you like a sanctuary.

As you passed, he caught your arm gently, his fingers brushing along its length. His eyes met yours, a daring glint in them that suddenly made your heart pick up again.

It wouldn’t be the first time Namjoon pins you to the first flat surface as soon as you walked through the door, fucking every single sensible though out of your brain, and that idea sends a tingle of excitement coursing through your body. You smile up at him, leaning further into his touch.

But Namjoon is undeterred.

“Don’t make snow all over the place. I mopped yesterday.”

You tilted your head, a little indignant puff escaping your lips before you smirk, toeing off your snowy boots by the door. “You’re so sexy when you do chores.” You push your luck further, but your lovely husband can’t seem to pick up on it.

 “That’s it. No more drinks for you.”

“Mm, you love it,” you teased, stepping past him into the warmth of the hallway.

The cozy embrace of the house wrapped around you, softening the crisp chill that clung to your skin, inviting that sense of ease that only your home could bring. You made quick work of shedding your coat and boots, setting them neatly by the door before stretching your arms high above your head, a little moan escaping your lips as the tension of the day melted away.

Namjoon glanced over just in time to catch your little display, his eyes flickering with amusement—and something else. “Comfortable already?” he shrugged off his own coat and tossing it over a chair.

“Very,” you replied with a content sigh. Without much thought, you made your way to the living room and plopped down on the couch, curling up against the soft cushions.

Namjoon followed behind, shaking the snow from his hair before taking his seat right next to you. His long body settled into the couch with easy grace, his head leaning back against the cushions, eyes lazily studying you as you sink further into the couch.

The warmth of the room wrapped around you like a cozy blanket, combining perfectly with the comfortable silence that filled the air. You could feel the weight of the night slip away.

The alcohol was still buzzing lightly through your veins, making you feel a little lighter, more complacent.

Namjoon shifted slightly, his arm brushing against yours as his hand found its way to your thigh, his fingers resting there with an easy familiarity. The warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric of your skirt, and when he shifted again, his touch grew bolder, fingers tracing slow circles just above your knee.

The small touch made your heart pickup again, and you looked up at him, catching the softness in his expression as he glanced back at you.

“So tired,” he confessed, almost like it was a secret. The day had been long for both of you, and you had no doubt the holiday season weighed just as heavily on him. Sure, yours was filled with glittering snowflakes and loud kids singing out of tune Christmas carols, while his likely consisted of conference calls, paper grading and presentations, but fatigue didn’t discriminate.

Still, there was something about the evening, the silence between you two, that made it all feel worthwhile. The day was over, but the night had a way of stretching on, leaving just enough space for small moments like this. Because with Namjoon, there was always something that made the world feel quieter, easier. Like he was grounding you, helping you recharge in a way no one else could.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in response, your voice a little dreamy as you let your head fall to the side, leaning against his shoulder.

“You look tired too,” he said softly, his voice laced with tenderness, still his hand shifted to the inside of your thigh, fingers massaging your skin softly.

“I am,” you admitted with a small sigh, your body naturally melting into his touch as the knots in your muscles began to dissolve.

Yet, even as your body relaxed, a spark flickered deep in your belly—undeniable and growing—kindled by the deliberate care in his movements, each touch purposeful and impossible to ignore.

“But I’m also horny,” you tack on after a few seconds, your voice a little breathy, your eyes flicking up to meet his, watching for his reaction.

Namjoon’s hand stilled for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. His gaze dropped briefly to where his fingers rested against your leg, then lifted to meet your eyes. His smile turned slow, deliberate, and his voice dropped an octave when he finally responded.

“Is my baby needy?”

You nodded slowly, feeling completely vulnerable under his deliberate admiration “Yeah,” you whispered, the word falling form your lips like a confession. “I want you.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, as if testing the waters, giving you a chance to pull back if you wanted to. But the way his eyes locked onto yours, the way his touch lingered now a little longer, a little rougher, said he wasn’t going anywhere unless you wanted him to.

Instead of answering, you shifted, turning around to straddle his hips, tugging your skirt higher in the process so you could sit comfortably on his lap.

“Always,” you muttered, your voice a breathy promise before closing the gap between you. You pressed your lips to his with fervour, cutting off the teasing words he was no doubt ready to deliver, swallowing them whole.

 Namjoon’s hands quickly went to your ass, pulling you impossibly closer, and you giggled when he squeezed at your flesh, then shifted like he sensed something unusual.

“What are you wearing?” Namjoon murmured against your mouth, his breath warm and pleasant. The low timbre of his voice made you giggle, the vibration of your laughter mingling with the tickle of his breath.

“Spandex,” you replied with a grin. “How do you think my butt looks so good in this skirt?” With a playful movement, you lifted the hem of your skirt just enough to show him. The spandex hugged your curves perfectly, a sly smirk plastered on your face.

Namjoon chuckled softly, his fingers brushing over the edge of the spandex before his hand returned to its frisky grip on your ass. His gaze lingered, warm and unguarded, as if memorizing every curve.

“Sexy,” he concluded. His other hand grabbing the edge of your shorts and letting it slap against your skin; the gesture drawing another burst of giggles from you.

“The sexiest,” you replied, your laughter dissolving into a grin as you shook your head. With an easy motion, you dropped your head onto his shoulder, muffling your laughter against his shirt.

It was ridiculous, you knew that—the whole moment—but there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart swell. Like he found you beautiful even in the silliness, even in spandex.

You remained like that for a moment, enveloped in the comfort of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing syncing with your own. His hands continued their gentle kneading of your flesh, and you shifted your hips, pressing closer, feeling his hardness through your clothes.

Namjoon let out a soft huff, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes, an impish glint in your own. With a wicked smile, you began moving your hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding against him, enjoying the way he hardens beneath you. His hands tightened, pulling you closer, a soft moan escaping his lips as he let his head fall back against the couch.

“Ah, babe-” His voice was strained, thick with desire, the heat between you intensifying, his hips buckling up slightly.

Your hands wander up his chest, feeling the muscles tense and relax beneath his shirt. You can feel his heart racing, matching your own as you lose yourself in the rhythm you’d set. With a bit of fumbling, you managed to unbutton his shirt, watching as he shivered under the touch of your cold fingers as you chart his toned muscles.

“Fuck. Kiss me please,” he breathed out, his voice rough and needy.

Your mouth hovered just few inches away from his, the warmth of his wrapping around you like a cocoon. Close enough to count the moles and freckles that dotted his skin, to take in the slight stubble along his jaw. His breath mingled with yours, teasing your lips.

 Your gaze flickered down, lingering on his mouth for just a moment longer.

And then, you didn’t hesitate. Leaning in, your lips find his in a fervent kiss. His mouth moved with yours, tongues tangling as you explored him, your hands roaming the expanse of his now exposed chest. The kiss was all-consuming, filled with the passion that had been simmering between you since he stepped into your classroom earlier today.

Namjoon's hands are not idle either. They roam up your thighs, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, making you shiver. You can feel his arousal pressing against your core, and you grind against him, eliciting a low moan from him.

“You feel incredible,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands squeezing your thighs. “I want you so bad.”

His words send another wave of heat through you, and you deepen the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair. You can feel the tension building between you, your own arousal growing with every passing moment.

With a reluctant movement, you pull away to stand up, your skirt falling back down to your thighs as you stare down at him. Namjoon looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, and you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement as you slowly, deliberately, begin to undress for him.

Pulling your button down over your head, you let it fall at his feet, watching the way his eyes barely flicker to it. Instead, Namjoon watches you, his breath quickening as you reveal more and more of your body to him.

You slip out of your skirt, tossing it aside as you stand before him in nothing but your spandex shorts and a lacy bra. His eyes rake over you, taking in every inch of your body with a hungry gaze.

“God, you're beautiful,” he breathes, his voice thick with longing, watching you kneel between his legs on the floor, your hands quickly moving to his belt to unbuckle it.

You take your time with it, savouring the way his breath hitches as you brush your fingers against his hardness. Once the belt is undone, you unbutton his pants and pull them down, taking his boxers with them. Namjoon lifts his hips to help, his gaze never leaving yours.

Now that he's fully exposed, you can't help but admire him; He's always been handsome, but in this moment, with desire burning in his eyes and his body tense with need, his unbuttoned shirt still clinging to his shoulders, he was downright irresistible.

You reach out, wrapping your hand around his cock, hard and ready, resting against his stomach, and he hisses in a deep breath, melting under your touch.

“Fuck.” His head falls back against the couch pillows, breaking eye contact once you wrap your lips against his him, running your tongue over his leaking tip, swirling it and dipping it into the slit, enjoying the lewd sounds that escaped from his chest without abandon.

Emboldened, you keep taking him deeper in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and finding a steady rhythm that has him unravelling quickly. Your tongue rolling over his head every time you come back up.

Your hand starts working the part you can’t reach mirroring the rhythm you've set with your mouth, unleashing a flood of moans from him.

Namjoon’s hips buck, accidentally bumping the back of your throat, making you gag, and a quick, weak apology falls from his lips, although you feel like he doesn’t truly mean it, because he does it again right after.

 But you barely care, because his taut stomach clenches, showcasing his pretty abs, and the long, low sound he makes sends a new wave of wetness between your legs, urging you on. You were the one making him weak. You were pleasuring him in such a way that made him lose himself.

“Just like that, love.” He reaches out, his fingers tangling in your hair, not tugging at it, but guiding your movements, fucking your mouth. You keep up with him, your lips now redden, tongue rolling on the underside, and your chin covered in spit as you bob faster.

The room is filled with the wet vulgar sounds your mouth makes and his low groans, the air thick with desire and anticipation.

“Fuck. Babe, stop.” He whimpers, tugging at your hair. “I’m close. Don’t want to cum-”

Suddenly, Namjoon pulls you away, holding you just out of reach as his head falls back against the couch, a long miserable “Fuuuuuck,” filling the space between you, as if he’d just received the worst news ever.

You blink up at him, your mind scrambling to understand his sudden outburst. His gaze meets yours again, and the regret swimming in his eyes deepens your confusion.

“Fuck. I knew I forgot something.” He groaned, voice thick with frustration, his fingers releasing their hold on your hair.

Your hand stilled mid-movement, your head tilting slightly as you tried to make sense of his words.

“You… can’t get blowjobs?” you asked cautiously, your knees wobbling as you stood up, bracing yourself against his legs for stability.

“What? No,” he blurted, his brows furrowing in indignation. “I forgot to go to the store. We’re out of condoms.”

Namjoon looked utterly defeated, his hands reaching out instinctively to steady you. Yet, there was something almost comical in the way his lips formed the smallest of pouts.

You bit down hard on the wicked grin threatening to spread across your face. He was adorable—even now, red hard cock pulsing against his chiselled thighs, neck flushed red, chest rising and falling rapidly as his mind raced. Likely scolding himself for forgetting something so crucial.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips, and again, you bury your face into his shoulder, leaning into him to press a kiss against his neck, drawing his gaze back to you. His thumbs began rubbing slow circles against your hips, grounding both of you as you whispered softly into his ear, “We could always go without.”

Namjoon froze. The suggestion sent a visible shiver through him, and his eyes widening slightly.

 For a moment, the room was silent save for the soft hum of the heater in the background, the suggestion hanging in the air between you like a loaded secret. His hands, still resting on your hips, tightened slightly as he stared at you, trying to gauge how serious you were—or how far he could let himself go without losing control.

“Are you serious?” his voice came out broken despite his best efforts, and you lean back to look at his face, your hands holding onto his shoulders.

“It would make a nice Christmas gift.” You admit, almost bashful, but maintaining eye contact.

“You’re not just saying that, are you?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. The playful tension had melted away, replaced by something heavier, more profound.

You nodded slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Of course, not” you said softly, your voice trembling just a little. “I want that too. I want a family with you.”

His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t quite get enough of you.

Namjoon let out a soft, shaky breath, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes closing as if to let your words sink in fully. When he opened them again, his gaze was filled with a depth of emotion that made your heart feel like it might burst.

“I really fucking love you.” He murmured, his hands settling more firmly on your hips, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left between you.

Your lips quirked into a small smile, your hands moving to cradle his face. “You better,” you whispered back. “I’m your wife, after all.”

Without warning, his arms tightened around you, and in one smooth motion, he stood up, lifting you effortlessly into his embrace.

You let out a startled gasp, your hands clutching his shoulders for balance.

“Namjoon!”

But he only laughed at your reaction, the sound of it lighting up his features as he carried you down the hallway with ease. His fingers pressed gently into your skin, steadying you, and even despite your mock annoyance, your heart still fluttered at the way he held you—like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Don’t think being my wife means you can get away with teasing me like that,” he murmured. His steps were steady, purposeful, the warm glow of the bedroom lights spilling out into the hallway as he nudged the door open with his foot.

You grinned, brushing a soft kiss against his jaw. “Actually, I think it means exactly that.”

He shook his head, his lips curving into a smirk as he laid you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering as if reluctant to let you go, while your legs remained wrapped around his hips, his hard cock pressing against your thigh. His gaze roamed over you, warm and full of affection, but the spark of desire in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“You’re impossible,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned over you, bracing himself with one arm while the other trailed down your side, sending a delicious shiver through you.

“You love it,” you replied, your tone just as playful as you tugged him closer.

Namjoon hummed, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that started sweet but quickly deepened, every touch and movement making you feel lighter, like you were floating.

His soft lips were moving yours and controlling the kiss, and you melted in his arms, letting him do anything he wanted. He pushed your lips open, and you willingly allowed his tongue to explore every inch of your mouth, moaning against him when he hooked it around your lip to softly bite on it.

His movements were slow and deliberate, as if savouring every second of the connection between you two. Your hands dropped down to his shoulders to push away his shirt, letting it fall off somewhere, and in response, Namjoon pressed against you further, pushing you into the mattress.

You can feel the weight of his body on you, every inch of him pressed against your curves, and you revel in the sensation, though it does very little to soothe the burning ache spreading through you. You try to arch your back, try to make your hips meet, desperate to feel more of him, but Namjoon keeps you pinned down. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and you're lightheaded from the kiss, each one of his lingering touches drawing you deeper.

His hands move with purpose, gliding down your arm and leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. Each touch feels purposeful, yet it only strokes the fire within you, the tension between you building with every measured caress.

Namjoon shifts, his lips abandoning yours to travel along your jaw and neck. Soft and warm, they graze your skin, leaving a searing path of heat that makes your breath hitch with every press of his mouth.

The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the warmth of his breath on your neck made your head spin, the room narrowing to just the two of you.

 You gasp when he nips at your neck, his lips a welcome contrast to the sting of his teeth. His hips rock against yours, and you moan at the feeling, even if it's just his length pressing against you, but at this point, you’d take anything to ease the lustful haze that clouded your mind.

“Joonie,” you whimper squeezing your thighs around his hips, “Please.”

You fought to keep your breathing steady, but it was a losing battle.

 “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered against your skin, his voice soft like caramel, dripping with longing, his hands still caressing the sides of your body, stopping over your breasts, teasing your nipples through the lacy fabric of your bra.

You mewl, arching instinctively towards his touch. “Then show me,” you whispered back, your voice hushed, sounding so needy that you barely recognise it as your own.

His eyes shift to your face for a quick second, a big teasing smirk tugging on his lips.

“Mmm, I will.” He replies casually, before pinching your nipples through your bra. A little whimper falls from your lips as a jolt of pleasure shoots through you.

He tugs your bra down, letting your tits spill out, and with an almost primal movement, he takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his hand continues to tease and pinch the other one. You gasp, throwing your head back, letting out soft moans as your fingers weave themselves into his hair, pulling him closer.

“God, you’re so hot,” he breaths against your chest, goosebumps erupting across your skin, before switching his attention to your other nipple.

You look down at him, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire. His hands slide down your body and you feel his fingers hook around the waistband of your spandex shorts, tugging them down your legs, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable before him.

He lifts his head from your breast, his lips red and slightly swollen, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. You feel a flicker of shyness wash over you, an instinctive reaction under his steady, adoring eyes. It isn’t that Namjoon ever made you feel uncomfortable—far from it. If anything, he had taught you more about how to love yourself than anyone else ever had.

But still, those small insecurities lingered, faint whispers at the back of your mind. The little things only you noticed, the things you thought didn’t measure up. You tried to push them away, focusing instead on the warmth in Namjoon’s gaze, the way his touch seemed to erase every doubt and hesitation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft but brimming with conviction, like he couldn’t hold the words back even if he tried. His eyes traced every curve and detail, lingering as if memorizing you all over again. “Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” he whispered, the words tinged with awe before he leaned down to place slow, deliberate kisses along your ribs.

A shaky moan slipped from your lips, a sound of your clear frustration as his seemingly endless patience began to test your resolve. He chuckled softly against your hip, the vibration of it sending a wave of heat through you.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, your voice teetering on a plea, your fingers threading through his hair to tug gently.

His lips paused their trail, his gaze lifting to meet yours, mischief and adoration mingling in his dark eyes. “What is it, love?”

“Stop teasing,” you demanded, your tone shaky but resolute. “I swear to god-” but before you could finish your threat, Namjoon’s fingers swipe across your pussy, rendering you absolutely speechless.

“Holy fucking shit.” Namjoon breathed, the disbelief in his voice almost comical as his wide eyes flickered from your face to your cunt. “You’re dripping wet.” His fingers parted your lips, pulling them apart so he could see better. “Is the idea of me knocking you up turning you on this much?” His other hand joined in, both of them exploring your wetness, spreading it around. “Fuck.” He muttered, his fingers positioning at your entrance, sliding in and out of you easily.

You couldn't help but moan, your back arching as you pressed yourself into his touch. “Namjoon,” you sob, your voice filled with longing. “Please, just fuck me.”

“I will. I will,” he mumbles, moving lower to settle between your legs, spreading your thighs further apart, “After I get a taste.” He tacks on, quite proud of himself.

You couldn’t help but huff in frustration and desire as you felt his breath against your slick folds, ready to complain. But before you could get the words out, Namjoon quickly shuts you up, his mouth on you.

“Be good.” He warns, his tone firm but gentle, voice muffled against your pussy. As the words left his lips, his tongue darted out, tracing a line from your entrance all the way to your clit and then back down, causing you to shiver in pleasure. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open for him as he explored every inch of you, his fingers moving in tandem with his lips.

“Joon,” you whimpered, your fingers tightening in his hair as you tried to control the rhythm, your hips trashing against his face. He chuckled against your skin, the vibrations sending another wave of heat through you, but his patience never wavered, even as your breaths became shorter and your whimpers turned into moans.

He slurped loudly, pressing his face in hard as he moved his lips and tongue expertly. You couldn’t help throwing your head back and moaning, the movement completely involuntary to you. His head moved around as he devoured you like a starving man, moaning to himself as he worked, his tongue lapping at your wetness, before coming back up to your clit and sucking hard, driving you crazy with the way his fingers moved and arched against your sweet spot.

“Namjoon!” Your eyes closed and you bit your lip, trying to muffle your moans, feeling the way his tongue swirled around your opening and licked up your wetness like he was savouring every drop of you.

He was worshipping you, consuming you like he’d been starving for you, growling whenever you pulled his hair too hard or moaned for him in a way he liked. Your back arched and you let yourself close your eyes, unable to stop yourself as your loud moans turned into gibberish, raising in pitch as he brought you right up to the edge.

His name was falling from your lips like a prayer, your hips bucking, thighs trembling and stomach clenched. You felt like you were about to explode, but he didn’t let up, not until you were unravelling against his touch. Your orgasm was so sudden, so violent and unexpected that you didn’t even get a chance to warn him, wave after wave of staggering pleasure washing over you, rendering you an absolute useless mess in his grasp.

 Namjoon didn't miss a beat, continuing his assault on your pussy as you came hard around him. Your muscles quivered and pulsed, and he groaned, the sound reverberating through you and adding to the intense pleasure crashing through your veins. And he didn't stop, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to wring every last ounce of pleasure from your body, his fingers pushing your release in his mouth.

As you slowly came down from your high, Namjoon gently kissed your inner thighs, his lips warm and soft against your sensitive skin. You could feel his proud smile against you, and you couldn't even find the energy to glare at him.

It wasn't until your breaths evened out and your body went limp that you finally managed to push him away, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips when he looked up at you.

“Feeling better, baby?” he asked, his voice twinged with amusement, although a little breathless.

You couldn't be bothered to reply, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. But you managed a small, satisfied smile, your eyes closed in contentment.

“I told you I would take care of you,” he murmured, his lips brushing softly against your hip. At that you chuckled, the sound light and airless, the remnants of pleasure still humming through your body like an electric current.

Namjoon began a slow ascend, pressing soft kisses against your skin as he went, each one making your breath hitch just a little more. When he finally reached your lips, his gaze was heavy with intent. He kissed you deeply, and the moment you tasted yourself on his tongue, a wave of heat crashed over you.

Your lips parted instinctively, drawing his tongue deeper as you sucked on it, the sensation unravelling something primal in your mind. A soft, desperate moan escaped against his mouth, your hands fisting into his hair as you clung to him, utterly consumed by him, by his mouth, by his hands against your hips. By Namjoon. Your husband.

“Ready for me to fuck you now, my love?” he asked, his voice low, a whisper against your lips, but one that sent a new wave of wetness to your core.

 You were too fucked out to form a coherent sentence, so your let your hand drop to hips and pull him closer, eager for him to take you.

You could feel his hard cock press against your entrance, and you couldn’t resist the temptation to glance down and watch as he positioned himself at your opening. A low moan falling from your lips as you waited for him to thrust inside you.

But instead, Namjoon teases you further, swiping his cock against your wet folds, driving you wild.

“C’mon love, don’t leave me hanging. Say something.” He chuckles, watching your expression carefully as he pushes the head of his cock against your clit, circling it.

That completely makes you snap, a flurry of uncoherent begging and threatening falling from your lips, filling the little space between your heavy breathing and his low chuckles.

“Please, please, please Namjoonie. Fuck me. Get me pregnant. God! Move! You always do this,” your head falls back against the pillow, tears prickling at the inside of your eyes, your fingernails digging in his skin. “Knock me up, please. Just fuck me. I’ll delete your homework gradings if you don’t.”

He bets you have almost no idea what you were spewing, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. Not when his heart swelled with love and desire at your words. He couldn’t resist you any longer. He presses the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you just for a second longer, before he finally pushes inside, agonizingly slow.

You gasp, your body trembling in his arms, feeling him fill you all the way to the brim. The feeling of him bare inside you, the warmth and the intimacy of it, is almost too much to bear. You can feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein. You feel every movement and every thrust as if it's the first time all over again. The sensation is so intense, so overwhelming, that you can't help but let out a series of weak, trembling moans every time he moves inside you.

“Holy fucking shit, you feel so fucking good.” Namjoon whimpered, his hips slapping against you, pulling almost all the way out before filling you up again, “Fuck, you're so tight. I can feel every inch of you, gripping me, love.”

The sound of your skin slapping fills the bedroom with his steady thrusts, punctuated by the occasional slap of his balls against your ass. You gasp, your orgasm building deep inside you. You can feel it coiling in your belly, ready to explode at any moment.

“Yes, yes, just like that, baby,” you moan, your hips moving in time with his.

“Shit love, look at that.” Namjoon presses a hand hard against your lower stomach, “Can you feel it?” he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. “Can you feel how deep I'm inside you, how close I am to filling you up?”

His words sent another wave of heat crashing over you, and you nodded eagerly, your breath hitching as you felt his hand press against your stomach. His cock, so deep  and snug in you that you can feel the bulge faintly against your abdomen as he moved.

You nodded frantically, your eyes wide as you felt him pulse inside you. The thought of him coming inside you, of him potentially getting you pregnant, only served to heighten your pleasure. You were so close, so unbearably close to the edge, and with each thrust, you felt yourself slipping closer and closer to the brink.

“Yes, yes, I can feel it,” you gasped, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. “Please, Namjoon, please fill me up. I want to feel you cum inside me, fill me up, I want to carry your baby.”

Namjoon's thrusts grew more desperate, spurred on by your pleas, more urgent as he chased his release, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove himself deeper and deeper inside you, hitting places you didn’t think possible.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with the effort of holding back.

“Don't stop,” you beg, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Don't you dare stop!”

But of course, ever the contrarian, Namjoon pulls out, making you scream in frustration. An elongated, miserable “Nooo,” falling from your lips, your body going limp, “God! Namjoon! I swear-” but he ignores you, flipping you over on your stomach.

You still angle your hips up in invitation, although angrily, your body trembling with anticipation and frustration. You’ve known your husband long enough to know how he liked to play, and how to play his games. You plant your knees on the mattress, lifting your ass higher in the air as your chest falls against the pillows, slowly swaying your hips for him.

 Namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Watching you offer yourself to him so willingly, so eagerly. He can’t resist your lure much longer. He positions himself behind you, his fingers tracing a path down your spine before grasping your hips firmly. You feel the head of his cock against your entrance once more, and you can't help the whimper that escapes your lips, as again, he swipes it against your clit before sinking into you.

This new position allows him to reach deeper somehow, and you can feel him hitting your sweet spot with every movement. Your fingers clench the sheets as he starts to thrust harder, his hips meeting your ass with a satisfying slap, and you push back against him, meeting him stroke for stroke, your pleasure mounting right back up, bringing you closer to the edge.

 Sweat starts to collect at your hairline, your breath hitching with each of his powerful thrusts.

“That's it, love. Take all of me,” Namjoon growls, his lips finding your neck as he continues to fuck into you. His hand snakes around to find your clit, and he starts rubbing slow circles around it, making your knees buckle under your own weight.

Your body trembles as he pushes you closer and closer to ecstasy. You can feel your orgasm building, the pressure coiling deep in your belly, ready to explode at any moment, with any one of his thrusts that hits right against your g-spot.

“Namjoon, I'm so close,” you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

“I know, love. I can feel it. Let go, let me feel you come undone for me,” he whispers in your ear, his voice filled with need, his fingers flicking your clit softly, completely stealing the breath from your lungs. “Let me feel you clench around my cock baby.”

His words are your undoing. You cry out, dissolving into pleasure, everything around you cutting to white noise. Your elbows give way, and you collapse onto the mattress, completely boneless as he coaxes wave after wave of bliss from your trembling body.

His hands fly to your hips, holding you up for him as his thrusts grow more erratic, dragging out your orgasm and making you clench so hard against him that his movements stutters. You felt utterly weightless, as though your body had melted into the sheets, as if you had no strength left to hold yourself together.

“I’m so close,” Namjoon moaned your name, his sounds growing lounder and more uninhibited, as he relentlessly chased his own climax.

“Cum inside me,” you beg, egging him on. “Fill me up with your seed. Make a baby with me.”

His movements falter, his most base instincts taking over, and with one final, powerful thrust, he releases. Filling you up with his hot, sticky cum, you can feel it, coating your insides and leaking out. You clench around him, another orgasm, less intense but just as blissful as the first one washes over you.

The feeling of him coming inside you, the warmth and the intensity of it, is almost too much to bear. You can feel your heart racing, your entire body trembling with the aftershock. You can feel him still inside you, pulsing to the rhythm of his own release, and the sensation of it is just overwhelming.

“Fuck, love,” Namjoon whispers, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss. “That was...incredible.”

You can only nod in agreement, your breathing still heavy and uneven. You can feel him softening inside you, but you don't want him to pull out. You want to stay like this forever, connected in the most intimate way possible, his full body weight on you.

But eventually, he does pull out, rolling onto his back beside you and you snuggle up against him, your head resting on his chest as you catch your breath. You can feel his heart racing, matching the rhythm of your own.

After a few moments of peaceful silence, broken only by your breathing, a soft, tired chuckle escaped your lips. You rested your chin on his chest, gazing up at him through fluttering eyelashes, a playful glint in your eyes.

“You have a breeding kink.” You state with a sly grin, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Namjoon huffs, his lips quirking into a faint smirk as he mutters, “Maybe.”

“Good,” you reply, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “Means you’ll enjoy these next few months.”

He groans, running a hand through his hair as his gaze locks onto you, full of equal parts amusement and surrender.

“Fuck. You’ll be the death of me, woman.”

[hoseoksluna]

BOOKWORMS | knj

pairing: boyfriend!namjoon x reader

genre: smut; fluff

word count: 4.4k

summary: namjoon thinks of you when he reads a smut scene in his book.

warnings: boyfriend namjoon!!!, kimi namijoon reading, mentions of sex (riding), oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, the importance of consent, teasing, raw sex, breeding kink <3, big dick namu!!, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, joonie's chain dangling in ur face, tummy bulge, creampie, bruising, hickeys, aftercare:(

note: it took blood, sweat and tears (hehe) to write this and i'm so happy it's finally here!! i loved writing about namjoon. he's my whole soul and the entirety of my heart and i have to write abt him again soon. please take your time reading this and enjoy urself! let me know what you think in the comments mwah (or tell me anonymously in my inbox) and as i always say please like and if u want to - reblog, but i won't pressure u baby. love love you!!

side note: if you want to jump straight to the smut, it's right under the asterisks &lt;;3

You revel, you truly do, in seeing your boyfriend in such a serene state of mind. 

Nose buried in a book, Namjoon pays no mind to the surroundings fleeting by him with each flutter of his eyelashes. It goes unnoticed by him, strangely so, how you tidy up the apartment you share. How you feed the two cats that chose you and him to be their human parents. How you fondle their soft ears. How you bend over the furniture to whisper ‘pspsps’ at them when they need a moment away from you just to see their round eyes look up at you stupidly. Namjoon usually observes these moments; this utmost natural behavior of yours. He draws strength from the homeliness of it all with each and every swell of his lungs. Needs it to survive. That is until he gets a hold of that one papery portal and sits comfortably on the couch, one ankle propped over the knee. Then, he ceases to exist in this world. 

You’re happy for him. Over time, you’ve come to find that you have a certain fondness for the way he remains stoic. Because you always know what kind of book he’s reading, a smile blossoms on its own over the line of your lips whenever your eye catches the sculpture-like look on his face. It’s like even if he let himself hold his breath, his consciousness would waver back to the earth and the wretched awareness that he’s here, among mortals and the unfair capitalist system aftermath, would stream in his bloodstream, poisoning his experience. It takes the leisure out of it and makes the bed for misery instead. He doesn’t like it. Hates it, in fact. It’s a necessity that he focuses, as he embarks on the journey, because he does it for you.

Namjoon confides in his feelings and his literature with you almost on a daily basis. On the same couch, with the same cats snoring faintly, their small bodies spilling over the perimeter of your tangled legs. Doesn’t matter if it’s his thigh or the curve of your hip. The animals always find a warm crook to doze in, eavesdropping in, with their curious little ears, on the conversations you’re having. Though you reckon they like the meat of his thigh the best. You do, too. Can’t really blame them. The same serenity that intimately knows the person of Namjoon perceives the person of you when he prompts you to rest your head on his lap while he brushes his book-kissed fingers through the silky waterfall of your hair. Thoroughly explains the intricacies of the plot he’s invested in to you. Describes the characters as if they’re real people he’s become acquainted with. They are real to you as you listen. As you ask additional questions and gaze up at his eyes just to catch that one body of a shooting star fiery hot in the glossiness of his eyes. As you wonder, openly, what will happen to them.

“I’ll tell you when they tell me.” He sunk the promise onto the smooth skin of your forehead with the pucker of his lips.

It’s how you discovered, in all seriousness, that the plaster of his stoicism breaks during these literary moments.

Various colors of emotion tug and twist his features, the bare kind. The unrestrained kind. You know it’s a relief for him when the dam bursts open, soaking you in the beauty of humanness one only finds in literature these days. You can’t help but fall in love with him all over again when his eyebrows furrow. When his orbs nearly burn a hole in the ceiling when he’s trying to think of the right word that will ultimately help him convey the unfolding of the storyline. When he gives up and weaves English into his sentences, relying on his hands to say what his overstimulated brain fails to do. 

He reads to pass knowledge to you. The serenity whispered it into the chambers of your heart, a puff of hot breath in winter’s cold. It soothingly rubbed his shoulders when Namjoon told you there used to be a time when he couldn’t stand the sight of his books lining up the walls of his apartment. Wanted to burn it down and watch as the evidence of his melancholy dies in front of him. Because that’s what most of his book collection consisted of back then. The innermost shadowy faces of his pain. Loneliness. Sadness. Despair from life, from it not being enough for him, from it not saving a spot there for him–not once throughout the course of his life. That’s why he reads different kinds of books now. Ones that do not reflect his survival before you.

The reader has to get wiser, ruffled by life in order to gain more, gain what they need from those once deeply loved pages. It’s what the serenity believes. It’s what you believe and hope for Namjoon. That one day, somehow by the healing of the love you give him, he will look back and pick a souvenir from that moonless country of pain. Put it up somewhere between the spines of his new cluttered collection. Look at it from time to time and sense that it’s telling him something. Something that will fill the stitched-up cracks in his heart with sunlight. Something that he will pass over to you. It’s your love language after all. Namjoon reads because you read. It’s his own personal healing thing. 

You two are just a pair of two bookworms. Unfit for the world outside. Fit for the land you two created. Whose soil you take care of together.

***

Dinner is almost ready by the time you feel his fingertips gripping your hips. You hum, acknowledging his presence. Glad for the homely heat that radiates off of his body and seeps into your bones as you stir the risotto you decided to make on the stove. Coldness had been embracing you all day while he read so you’re overjoyed that he ripped it away from you.

Namjoon places a kiss on your temple and you sigh in relief. You might be too dependent on him, but so is he. He wouldn’t be nuzzling his face in your hair, squeezing your waist, peppering kisses on your tender skin if he wasn’t. It’s the perfect balance. And it’s not that you’re not able to be away from each other. The principle of looking forward to one another is what makes it so sweet, so endurable for the pair of you. Of the coming back and coming into contact at the end of the day. It’s natural. Simple. Human.

“Missed me?” Namjoon husks into your ear. 

You smirk and turn off the stove, turning around to face him. “Terribly.”

His body is clad in a black T-shirt that fits his broad figure well and a pair of baggy sweats of the same color, having discarded the warm crewneck he was wearing earlier somewhere in the universe of his book. A long silver chain twinkles in the middle of his chest in the yellow light. You caress it with your fingers and leave your palm there, on the hardness of his pecs. 

“I finished the book,” he says and you blink up at him. You’re not surprised at all. “Couldn’t put it down.”

Sleepy wrinkles have left their mark on his face from the cozy position he laid in for too long on the couch. His short sunlit hair, grown healthily from his military service, is tousled in all directions and you smooth it down for him. How did God bless you with such a beautiful man is something you’ll wonder about for the rest of your life. 

“What happened to Theo in the end?” you ask, genuinely curious about whether one of the characters you’ve grown attached to is okay after all the shit the author put him through. 

Namjoon was reading a coming-of-age book about a boy named Theo. A panorama of his childhood and adolescent life, you’ve heard all about it. Namjoon cared a lot about this story, cared a lot about the protagonist’s emotions and reactions to the reappearing storms. What made him stick with it, despite the nearly triggering themes, is the fact that Theo never let go of his optimism no matter what. It was incredibly inspiring for Namjoon. Something new. Something that he never thought could be possible. You’re proud of him for daring to read a book so reminiscent of his past.

“You’re not gonna believe it,” Namjoon says, a blush creeping along his cheeks.

You raise one of your eyebrows in question. 

“Theo got laid,” Namjoon reveals, laughing softly. “I’m so happy for him.”

You gasp and burst into giggles. “What?”

“He got some!” 

Your laughter rises in volume. “He lost his virginity and that’s the end?”

“It was a big moment for him. A triumph of some kind. Like he shed his old skin and left that broken life behind. It was amazing.” Namjoon’s eyes glint with tiny shooting stars and you melt. He always finds poetic meanings in the varieties of the character arcs. You think you just fell in love with him all over again. 

“That’s really beautiful,” you admit. It reminds you of something. Of something quite personal. “My first time with you changed my life as well.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows curl in tenderness. Dragon eyes widen and round in fervent emotion. He squeezes his arms around you, enfolding you in a hug. Kisses you warmly. Strokes your hair down your back. Your own eyes pool with little tears with the intimate knowledge that you chose the right person to unfold your raw femininity with. No one, no man other than him could have created such a safe for that to happen.

“Tell you what,” Namjoon says a bit hoarsely. “I saw us in it.”

You hum, encouraging him to continue. Crave for more of his thoughts and confidential findings. Its fire spreading through your body, as each word of his registers in your brain, always makes you feel phenomenally alive. You’re not timid to avow that it’s your addiction. Shame doesn’t know you.

“Elena was on top and he was watching her. In awe of her,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek with the tip of his thumb. “Made me think of our last time. A life changing experience of mine as well.”

You welcome the fire and suspire with sudden desire, eyes lidding. Your heart begins to thump. Namjoon studies your reaction. 

“You remember well, don’t you?” He nudges his nose against yours. “I was in awe of you just the same.” 

It’s impossible not to remember. The memory consumes your mind every waking hour. Gets you needy in ways you haven’t felt before. Namjoon had you sat on his lap among the fluffiness of your innumerable pillows and plushies. Had you do all the work as he focused on the sleekness of your freshly moisturized calves, its coconut aroma interfused with the scent of sex and the euphony of your bounces, ragged breaths and broken moans making his head all fucked up. He was loud himself, more loud than you ever recalled him being. Reading your body at the mercy of the pleasure his hard length was giving you with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Not once did he take his eyes off of you, not once did he help you. Just gripped your calves. Your thighs. Your tits all in his face. Only when you came hard, out of your own delightful merit, did his eyes roll back. You left his hips glazed with the evidence of your well-deserved orgasm, a porcelain statue made glossy.

A little later, during your pillow talk, he told you he’d found the idea of you using him while getting yourself off extremely hot. Made him more hard than he’d been in a while. Begged you to be even more selfish next time, adding an indistinct, ‘well, of course, if you want’ to the end of his sentence because he’s Namjoon.

“I do,” you breathe. “Touched myself to it this morning while you were still asleep.”

Namjoon groans. “God.” He kisses the side of your neck. Gets close to your ear. “You wanna do it again, hm? Wanna fuck me?” 

You might burst. His closeness, his heat, his need to ask for your consent turns you unstable. You’re choked up on your words, mind too fuzzy to say something. Turned on. Fucked up.

“You wanna show me how you touched yourself?” Namjoon continues, but you shake your head against the side of his face. 

You had touched yourself in the shower. Couldn’t say no to the impulse. Sharing that part of you for his eyes to see isn’t something you’re quite ready for. To you, it’s still something that’s yours. Something private. A courage you have yet to pluck up. You’re afraid to give him this last part of your femininity.

“Not today,” you whisper, planting a kiss on his neck. Feel him shiver. “I’m sorry. Do you mind?”

Withdrawing from your neck, Namjoon looks you dead in the eye, brows twisted in stern seriousness. “Don’t ever apologize for something like that again. Hear me when I say that.”

You squeeze his shoulder, the corners of your mouth lowering in a pout. Thankfulness grips your heart and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. 

“You know this is why we do this right?” he asks you. “Why I ask you these questions? I need to always know what you’re comfortable with so I don’t make a mistake.”

You nod. “Yes, Namjoon, I know and I’m so thankful.”

“Good. I’ll never push you to do anything you don’t want. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t.” 

“That’s my girl. 

You grab him by the back of his neck and engulf him in a hug. Luckiest girl in the world? That you are. The fact that you’re his is still something you can’t wrap your head around.

“We can stop. We don’t even have to do anything tonight—”

“No, Namjoon.” You withdraw. “Look.” Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you slip his hand beneath the confines of your panties. 

His breath shakes when he reaches your soaked folds. He traces your hole with his middle finger and your hips follow his movement, the pleasure so faint but so good that you flutter your eyes closed.

“Fuck, baby.” 

“Yeah, I need you. Need more,” you breathe out. “Can’t leave me like this, can you?”

Namjoon hums. “No, I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of this pussy.” 

He kisses you. Massages his tongue against yours. You buck your hips into his hand and Namjoon hears your body language. Takes his fingers up and rubs your swollen clit from side to side, quickening his pace as he swallows your moans down his throat. Gets angry at your tight leggings hindering him in giving you more, so he gets on his knees and swiftly pulls them down along with your underwear. 

“Sit on the counter.”

You comply right away. Namjoon takes your feet in his hands and gently removes your slippers, removing your garments fully so they don’t pool around your ankles. He needs your legs spread and he needs them spread wide for what he’s about to do to you. 

Torso long enough to reach you, he remains on his knees. Runs his hands up the back of your thighs to guide you into the position he wants you in. “Lock your arms around the back of your knees. Don’t let go.”

You do as he says, biting your lips in nervousness. Intertwine your hands together. Prepare yourself to die. 

Namjoon studies your dewy pussy, index and middle finger mimicking the letter V as he slides them up and down your folds, squeezing just right to hear you mewling. Your knees being so close together makes her look a lot more pillowy and you hear Namjoon breathe hard, absolutely hypnotized by the beauty of your flesh. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my hand.” He withdraws his fingers to show you how your slick trickles down the lines on his palm, changing the course of his life once and for all. 

Your clit throbs, breath matching his. “Please, Namjoon.”

He curses inaudibly. Brings his fingers back down to your folds, squeezes your lips and your clit together. Hisses at the sweet whimpery sounds spilling out of your mouth. Presses tighter so you whine needily for him. Takes you into his mouth when he accomplished what he wanted, tonguing your clit in slow agonizing circles that has you buckling your hips again. Puts his hands on your thighs to keep you down, flicking fast to absolutely abuse the fuck of you. Dragon eyes zeroing on yours, he gives you the hypnosis that your pussy did to him as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. You can’t even scream. Can’t breathe. The pleasure overwhelms you wholly and straps you down. There’s nothing you can do but take it. 

You come hard on his tongue. Namjoon laps it all up gladly. And when he’s finished, he stands up and slips those two digits that ruined you into your hole. Doesn’t move them. Lets you adjust instead.

“One more,” he mutters. “Please.”

You nod.

“Use your words or we’re stopping.”

You groan and close your eyes, your thighs visibly shaking in your iron grip from your orgasm. “Yes, Namjoon, one more. I’ll come for you.”

Namjoon places a wet kiss on your thigh to praise you, and to thank you as well. Begins to move his fingers promptly, but can’t seem to get enough of your skin. Proceeds to make it shiny with his liquid love, sucking it to bruise you. To remember this moment a little more fondly in the morning. 

Creating a trail up to the back of your knee, his digits pick up the speed. The pool of slick you left in his palm sloshes with each rapid thrust of his hand. He looks back at you and sees you lost in the pleasure, eyes lidded and unfocused. “Look at me.” 

You do, weakly.

“Just a little bit more and I’ll fuck you, all right?”

You’re about to nod, but decide against it. “Mhm, yes, Namjoon, fuck.” 

He smiles down at you. Your relief inches closer. “I’m so proud of you for speaking up today. For letting me know.” 

You could cry right now. Because of his fingers making you feel so good. Because of his kindness making you feel so safe. It all closes in on you and you whimper. 

Abruptly, Namjoon unravels your grip on your knees and kisses you, tongue slipping in. You come all over his hand, without meaning to, and he doesn’t stop. On the contrary, Namjoon fucks you harder. Takes all four of his fingers and strums your clit, prolonging your orgasm, swallowing down all of your moans. 

“Come on.”

Namjoon helps you down. If it weren’t for his arms holding you steady, you would’ve collapsed on the floor. Your legs shake, muscles taut and tense. 

“I got you.”

Sat on the floor with his joggers and boxers pulled beneath his crotch, he pulls you down on his lap. A wisp of precum adorns his tip and you wrap your hand around it, collecting it with your thumb. Watch him as you swirl your tongue around the digit before sucking on it, letting go with an obscene pop. Namjoon licks his lips, hands clasping your hips hard enough to bruise you. Twitches in your other hand.

“Don’t fucking do that to me, baby.” 

You laugh almost inaudibly, drunk on him. “Are you gonna come in me?” 

He replaces your hand, holding his length at the base for you to sink down. And you do, gasping softly at his thickness. Your dewiness helps it to be a smooth ride.

“Gonna pump you full. Leave you dripping,” he promises, voice restrained. “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.” 

One thing about Namjoon, he’s a man of his word. 

Seated perfectly on him, he waits for you to adjust. Alleviates the tremble of your thighs with his palms, massaging the muscles. Takes off your shirt and flings it across the kitchen. Gropes your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You start to grind on him, throwing your head back. He latches onto your nipple and flicks the nub with his tongue. You lose your mind, leaking down his balls. 

“Ready?” he asks against the fullness of your breast. 

“Yeah, fuck me, Joon.” 

He thrusts into you once to watch you fall apart. Locks your arms behind your back. Grabs your forearms for his use.

“You forgot something.”

He thrusts again, harder this time.

“What?” you breathe out, meekly. 

“What word do you use when you want to ask for something?”

He watches you as you work it out in your brain. Fucks into you three more times, equally hard, to disrupt you. 

“Fuck, sorry. Please, Joon, please.”

He grinds, hips rotating in circles. 

“Uh-huh, that’s right. Now use it.” 

Namjoon envelops your tit in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your areola. Sucking. Keeping up the agonizing pace. Groaning when you clench down on him. 

“Please, hmph, fuck me.”

Your breast bounces back when he lets go, biting his lip. “Knew you could do it,” he coos. “Smart fucking girl.” 

He begins to fuck you properly. Thrusting up and down as he holds you steady, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As he takes control of your squirming, leaving his fingerprints on your forearms and waist. You’re breathless, whimpering, on the verge of sobbing. So turned on and needy for him that the emotions brim in you, threatening to spill over. 

“Aren’t you?” Namjoon continues. “Aren’t you a smart girl?” 

You nod, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I’m a smart girl.” 

He spanks your ass to reward you and you arch your back. Tits all in his face. He’s mesmerized watching them bounce and nearly slap against each other, nubs hard and pointed. He licks them up, flicking them with his tongue. You round your shoulders a little in pleasure, his strong grip not letting you fold like your body wants. 

“That’s right. So smart and good for me. So fucking wet. Making me lose my mind.”

Namjoon kisses you. Inhales you. Withdraws only for a mere second before he’s back, tongue in, toying with you the way you like it. You feel your relief calling your name.

“Namjoon, I’m so fucking close. I’m so close. I’m gonna come,” you whine, forehead pressed against his, face twisted in ecstasy.

Namjoon stops out of the blue and slips out of you. You whine loudly, but before you know it, he carries you to the couch and lays you down on it. Takes off all of his clothes until only his silver chain remains, shining bright in the dim light. He spreads your legs, one limb over the backrest, the other around his thigh. Grips his length and tugs at it a few times, the feeling of your wetness making him slippery pulling moan after moan out of him. 

He enters you again and resumes his fast pace, holding your calf in his hand. “Smart girls come on the couch, not on the floor like whores. You got that?” 

You nod almost too eagerly, fucked out beyond measure. “Yes, Joon, please make me come. Please, come here.” 

Namjoon leans towards you, propping his elbows by your head, cradling you. “I’m here. I’m gonna make you come.” 

From this angle, he fucks you more deeply than before, his tip reaching your cervix. You roll your eyes back, but bring them right back to his face when his chain taps you on the chin. You find it so hot that you grind your hips against his, meeting his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck you harder. The chain meets you in erratic staccatos and you scratch your nails down his bare back, the sword-like pendant hurting you in a way that you like. 

Namjoon notices. Slows down his movements. Pinches the chain from the back of his neck. Prompts you to lift your head and slides it over, letting it rest in the middle of your breasts. Then fucks you back into the couch.  

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna breed you. Hm. You want that, don’t you?”

The cord tightens in your lower belly. The bulge of where his tip is hitting you nudges him in his stomach and he looks down. Curses. 

“Look.” 

You follow his eyes and moan. “Namjoon, Namjoon, please come in me. I’m so close. Wanna feel you. Please.” 

He grunts, nodding his head. Licks his fingertips and presses them against your clit. Pleasures you in fast and swift jerks until you’re knocking your head back. Only when he grabs your jaw and kisses you does the cord snap, his lips being your ultimate undoing. 

Namjoon presses you down with his body, keeps you calm and collected. Kisses you all through it, your jaw, your neck, your cheeks. Then his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock twitches in you. He gives you one final hard thrusts and fills you up, groaning against your mouth.

You’re smoothing down the sting of your scratches on his back when he pulls out of you and his cum drips out of you. You wish you could see what he sees, hand on his mouth, careful to catch his drool. You push out more for him and he curses, fondling your pussy with his thumb before he pumps it back in. 

He comes back to you and kisses you. Fixes your hair. Caresses your cheek. Helps you stand on your feet as he leads you into the shower. Washes every inch of your body, heedful of the bruises he left on the back of your thigh. Lathers your hair in your favorite shampoo. Wraps you in a towel. Wanted to moisturize your body, but you told him off, knowing both of you would get horny again. You let him brush your hair, though, placing a comb in his hand. He’s gentle as he undoes the knots, then he blowdries your hair. 

And you do the same for him.

Once the pillow touches your cheeks, you’re both out like a light. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[hee0soo]

Sleepless Nights

Pairing — Husband!Kim Hongjoong x afabWife!Reader

Summary — You gladly sacrifice anything for your kids and with a Husband like Hongjoong you couldn't feel happier if you tried....

Genre — fluff

AU/Trope Info — Idol!Au, SliceofLifeAu

Wordcount — 0.7k

Warnings — none

Rating — sfw

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Before you had your children you had been a heavy sleeper. You were sure that a bomb could have exploded right next to you and you wouldn’t have woken up.

It had helped when Hongjoong was still actively promoting, sneaking in and out of your bedroom at the most atrocious of times without you so much as stirring buried underneath your blankets.

Now though, with a 3 and 1 year old in the house, even the spider spinning her web in the corner of the room could probably wake you!

And so it was no surprised that even the slightest noise leaving your sons mouth in the middle of the night had you sitting upright and ready to get up if your husbands hand on your hand hadn’t stopped you before you could.

“Go back to sleep, I’ll check on him.” Hongjoongs rough from sleep voice cut through the darkness. You felt the mattress shift when he got up and rested back against your pillows, not quite ready to go back to sleep before you weren’t sure that Ha-joon was safely back in slumberland.

Tethering on the border to fall asleep while waiting, you thought about those past few years. From the moment you proposed to Hongjoong, because doing it the normal way was boring, to Hongjoong holding your hand while waiting for the pregnancy test result and promising you th whatever would happen, you would do it together and the birth of your babies.

Joon-hee’s bright personality that Hongjoong had joked was more like her uncle Woo’s then his own and Ha-joon who was showing signs of starting to walk already while babbling happily to everyone who would hear it and entertain him. The fact that Hongjoong had immediately put his career on hold all those years ago to be with his family, making him able to experience every up and down with you caused your heart to soar.

“Is he okay?” you mumbled when you heard the door open again.

“Just lost his paci for the moment. However, I also found this little lady wandering the halls.”

You opened an eye and saw the shadow of your husband with a clingy Joon-hee attached to his front.

The little girl reached her small arms out to you, crawling into your open arms upon being sat down on the mattress before Hongjoong crawled back in bed.

“Mama…” The girl whined and hid her face in your sleepshirt.

“What’s wrong baby? Why aren’t you sleeping for mama?” you hummed into the soft curls on her head.

Hongjoong, a gentle smile on his face that you couldn’t see in the dark of the night, listened attentively.

“Bad dreamies! The sockie mons’er came and wanna eat my feetsies!”

Ah yes, the unfailable fantasy of your oldest baby that even came to hunt her dreams. Joon-hee was a dreamer, always in her head, living out the wildest storys when not whirling around like a fire cracker and it was no surprise by now that sometimes nightmares were full of that too.

“Oh, we can’t have that, don’t we ladybug? Gonna save the feetsies from the evil sock monster with mama and appa!” Hongjoong gasped out and tickled her sides to make her laugh and forget the horror of her dream. The girl reacted instantly, giggling at her fathers antics before settling down between you both.

“Mama ‘n appa protec’ me?” she asked with a sleepy pout and received 2 kisses from you and him to each chubby cheek.

“Always, ladybug.” Hongjoong promised her.

“N’ Ha-Joonie?”

“And Ha-Joonie too!”

Joon-hee nodded, eyes growing heavier by the second.

“Wan’ protec’ Ha-joonie too…”

You knew immediately that she was out like a light when she trailed off smuggled against you with soft puffs of air hitting the skin on Hongjoong’s neck after she turned to her father.

Silence settled over the room. You felt his fingers reach over your daughter to trail them down your face.

“Thank you,” He whispered into the dark which only caused a stir and sigh from you, already back asleep like Joon-hee. “for making me the happiest I’ve ever been…”

[kingofbodyrolls]

Sprouting Love (m) | knj

As snowflakes dance in the crisp winter air, you and Namjoon find yourselves wrapped in the warmth of each other’s company. The holiday season brings the aroma of freshly baked cookies, the magic of twinkling lights strung through the house, and laughter echoing in your greenhouse where you tend to flourishing plants, lovingly nurtured together. Amid the glow of Christmas cheer and shared moments filled with wonder, perhaps this season will sprinkle a touch of courage and clarity to finally define the blossoming connection between you. Will the magic of Christmas help turn what’s unspoken into something beautifully real?

→ Pairing: namjoon x reader (female) → AUs: non-idol!au, gardening!au, neighbors!au, christmas!au, holiday!au → Trope: (enemies to lovers) / neighbors to lovers / friends with benefits to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romcom / comedy (+ a little angst) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 13.7k → Warnings + triggers: unprotected sex (please be safe), degrading name calling, hair pulling, sexual tension, oral (male receiving), rough but also tender, a lot of kissing, a lot of tension, dirty talk, stupid innuendos, multiple orgasms, praise kink, begging, exhibitionism (unintentionally), impregnation kink, begging, big dick Joonie 👀 + glasses and turtlenecks.  → Author’s note: ahhhh. I know a lot of you love this couple (and I do too!). So here’s another part to it, that’s almost as long as the whole mini series 😂 I hope you like it and happy holidays! 🎄 → Read the spoiler? [text messages]  → Read on AO3? [link] 

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You make the short walk to Namjoon’s house, each step tingling with the thrill of anticipation that never quite fades, no matter how many times you’ve walked to his house. The winter air whispers secrets against your skin, and when you reach his door, your knuckles barely touch the wood before it swings open as if he had been waiting on the other side, sensing your arrival like some instinctual force. 

“Hi, Joonie—” you start, but your words catch in your throat, swept away by the vision standing before you. Namjoon leans casually in the doorway, barefoot on the cool floor, his loose gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. A black wooly turtleneck, soft and perfectly snug, accentuates his lean big frame, the sleeves gathered around his strong forearms. He shifts slightly, and you spot caramel-brown suede patches on the elbows, details that shouldn’t be alluring but are, somehow, because they are his. 

Dear god, send help, you think, as you try to steady the wild flutter in your chest. How does a man make something so simple look so impossibly captivating? His hair is still that soft silver shade, a gentle stormcloud you’ve come to love, its unruly strands tempting you to reach out and run your fingers through them. Over the past few months, he has become more than just a fleeting presence in your life, even if you both refuse to define what you are to each other. You still remember the moment that changed everything—when you gathered the courage to apologize for your reckless behavior, and he, with the ease of someone who understood you more than he should, forgave you. That night at his housewarming party had led to your lips on his, your inhibitions crumbling, and his laughter echoing in your ears long after you both lost yourselves in each other’s warmth.

Namjoon has always had this uncanny ability to stir chaos within you, then anchor you with just a look or a word. No one has ever made you feel this way—unpredictable yet somehow perfectly at peace, like a storm that finally finds its calm. Yet, despite the countless nights tangled in his sheets and countless moments where his presence felt like home, neither of you has dared to put a name to what you share. It’s undefined, beautifully so, even if it gnaws at the corners of your heart sometimes. But for now, this is enough. It has to be.

His voice pulls you back to the present, warm and teasing, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Hi, Y/N. Do you need help with something? Or,” he adds, a smirk tugging at his lips, “do you have an itch that needs scratching?” His eyebrows lift, suggestive and playful.

Your cheeks warm at his flirtation, but you recover quickly, slipping into the playful defiance that has always been your defense. “Well,” you say with a smirk and a giggle, leaning in just a touch, “I am ovulating.” The words hang between you, bold and taunting.

Namjoon’s mouth falls open, and he stares at you, wide-eyed, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in that adorably nervous way of his. “You know I’m not ready for kids, and we’re not even… together,” he stammers, his voice faltering. His statement is like a tiny fissure in the moment, and it stings, the reminder of what you are—or aren’t—but you cover the hurt with a laugh.

“Relax,” you reply, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know I’m on birth control, and it was just a joke.” 

You step closer, so close now that his breath mingles with yours, warm and sweet, the space between you charged and electric. “But,” you whisper, your voice low and wicked, “we could roleplay. I know how much the idea of impregnation turns you on, Joonie.” Your smile is devilish, delighting in the way his cheeks flush a deep crimson, the way you’ve come to know his secrets and use them to unravel him.

“It does not,” he protests, crossing his arms with a mock pout, the hint of a stammer betraying his feigned offense. You can’t help but smile at the way his brows knit together, his sulky act so endearing that it almost pulls a real laugh from your lips.

“Relax, that’s not why I dropped by,” you tease, a playful shrug rolling off your shoulders as your hand reaches out to rest against his chest. Beneath your fingers, you feel the familiar contradiction of his body: the softness of his black wooly turtleneck giving way to the solid, unyielding muscle beneath. God, you think, so soft, yet so perfectly taut, those sculpted pecs.

“It isn’t?” he questions, his eyes narrowing with a glint of something unsaid, a spark of curiosity mingled with heat. But this time, you’ve got more to offer than just teasing banter.

“No,” you say with a warm smile, the sexual tension melting away and leaving something more tender in its place. “I actually wanted to see if you’d come over and help me bake cookies for the local orphanage.” Your voice softens, sincerity peeking through, and a touch of vulnerability brightens your eyes.

You watch how his expression shifts, his features melting from playful disbelief into something far more gentle. First, his eyes narrow knowingly, but then his entire face softens, the warmth in his gaze like sunlight breaking through a heavy cloud. “Yeah, sure,” he says, his voice steady, sincere. “I’d love to.”

A rush of relief blooms in your chest, and you exhale with a beaming smile. “Thank you! Usually, Kookie helps me, but he’s busy today,” you add, lips pursing into an exaggerated pout. “It’s kind of a tradition for me to make cookies and bring them to the orphanage every Christmas,” you explain, your smile growing at the thought.

“Nice,” he replies, his eyes lighting up with a touch of amusement as he gestures at the festive Christmas apron tied snugly around your waist. “Are you going to make them now?”

You nod, your breath leaving in a small cloud in the cold air. “Yeah.”

“I can help now,” he offers, and with that, he steps back into his house, slipping on some cozy slippers before joining you. The snow crunches underfoot as you both walk the short, chilly distance to your house, where warmth and holiday spirit await. The driveways have been cleared, the path to your front door inviting, and when Namjoon closes the door behind him, the cold is immediately banished.

Inside, your kitchen looks like a Christmas explosion. Mixing bowls of various sizes clutter the counter, flour dusted liberally across every surface, with rogue sprinkles even trailing onto the floor. Bars of chocolate lie waiting to be chopped, and the oven hums contentedly, filling the space with soothing warmth. The chaos makes it clear: you’ve already begun the festivities.

“Wow,” Namjoon murmurs, eyes wide as he takes in the scene. “I can see why you needed help.” His voice is a mix of awe and playful judgment, and you can’t help but let out a small, sheepish laugh.

You scratch your head, an embarrassed giggle escaping. “Yeah, I always bite off more than I can chew,” you admit, your laughter brightening the room even more. You step toward the counter, already thinking of ways to channel Namjoon’s energy into something useful. “Do you want to chop the chocolate?” you offer.

He freezes, his eyes widening with mock terror, and his deep laugh rumbles through the kitchen. “I better not,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “You know how clumsy I am.” You think back to his infamous accidents: the greenhouse he demolished, the garden beds he obliterated—all unfortunate mishaps that had somehow led to these shared moments, bringing you closer.

“True,” you chuckle, the memory making you squeeze his bicep as you pass behind him. The muscle beneath your touch is solid, reassuring. “Okay, then,” you say, gently guiding him toward the mixing bowls. “If you mix the batter, I’ll handle the chocolate,” you suggest, and he nods, his laughter still dancing in the air between you.

You find your rhythm with Namjoon: a steady, unspoken dance of movements. He mixes the batter with those powerful biceps of his, muscles flexing beneath his sweater as he works the spoon through the thick dough. You try not to stare, but god, how can you not? The sight is distracting, dangerously so, and you have to remind yourself to keep your focus on chopping chocolate, the sharp knife clinking rhythmically against the cutting board. Your hands work swiftly, but your gaze can’t help but drift, lingering over the way his arms tense and move. Damn, you think, heat blooming in your cheeks. You shouldn’t be ogling him like this… but resisting feels impossible.

The kitchen grows warm and sweet, scented with chocolate and flour, the air heavy with anticipation. Namjoon finishes mixing the dough, and together you shape it into perfect, palm-sized portions, setting them onto baking trays. He’s meticulous, and you can’t help but feel a small swell of pride as you watch him carefully pat each ball of dough into place. You slide the first tray into the oven, only one at a time—your old, temperamental oven too unpredictable for more. Patience will have to pay off if it means the cookies will be perfectly golden.

The two of you stand side by side, the silence suddenly thick, almost suffocating. The tension wraps around you like a taut string, ready to snap at the smallest movement. To break it, you grab a couple of glasses, filling them with cold water, hoping the simple action might soothe whatever current crackles between you. But even as you drink, neither of you speaks, the electricity palpable.

Before you can find something to say, a new presence cuts through the tension as Jungkook stumbles into the kitchen, descending from the staircase with the heavy-lidded look of someone freshly woken. His hair is a tousled, endearing mess, dark strands sticking out at odd angles as he drags a hand through them, yawning wide. “Hey, what are you guys doing?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, still rubbing the remnants of his dreams from his eyes.

“Baking cookies,” you reply, smiling at the sight of him, though you can’t help but wonder why he’s only just now waking up when it’s the middle of the day. He looks entirely too soft and adorable, making you feel a small pang of fondness.

Jungkook’s nose twitches, catching the scent of baking chocolate. “Smells good,” he says, eyes lighting up as he takes a few sleepy steps closer to the kitchen counter where you and Namjoon stand—close, but not touching. “Can I have some in my room?” he asks, hopeful, his voice still gravelly with sleep. He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, a pout forming on his lips.

“No,” you say firmly, fixing him with a stern look. “These are for the orphanage.”

“Just one?” he tries again, his expression a perfect picture of adorable desperation. But you hold your ground, shaking your head.

“No,” you repeat, more resolutely this time. Yet Jungkook, mischievous as ever, slides over to the bowls of dough, his eyes gleaming with determination. He reaches out, fingers poised to swipe a handful of unbaked cookie dough. 

Before he can steal his prize, Namjoon’s reflexes kick in. With a swift, almost effortless movement, he intercepts Jungkook’s hand, swatting it away before it can come anywhere near contaminating your carefully prepared batter. You’re grateful for Namjoon’s intervention, and for a moment, the amusement makes the tension between you dissolve just a little.

Jungkook rubs his hand, feigning injury with a dramatic pout, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Namjoon. Something flashes in his gaze—curiosity, awareness—an unspoken question lingering in the air as he watches the two of you. The corners of his mouth twitch, as if he’s caught on to something unsaid, something charged. The look he gives you is knowing, but he doesn’t say a word.

“What are you doing, anyway?” Jungkook asks, his lips curling into a smirk that suggests mischief brewing beneath his sleepy demeanor. His eyes glint with a teasing challenge, the kind only someone who knows how to poke at your soft spots can deliver.

You tilt your head, brows knitting together, confusion settling over you like a mist. “What do you mean?” you ask, your voice curious but cautious, already sensing that whatever he’s about to say will unsettle the fragile balance you’ve created here.

Jungkook’s smirk deepens, the troublemaker’s spark lighting up his gaze. He takes his time, savoring the pause, drawing it out like a slow intake of breath before the storm. “I mean,” he drawls, letting the anticipation build before delivering his question, “are you two official now, or what?” His voice cuts through the air, as sharp and casual as a knife slipped between armor.

The question pierces through you, freezing you for a heartbeat. You scramble for words, but they don’t come. Your chest tightens, because the truth is you don’t know. You’re not official with Namjoon, and the ambiguity gnaws at you in quiet moments, whispering doubts you try so hard to ignore. All you’ve shared is laughter, nights tangled together, and moments that feel like home—but nothing labeled, nothing secure. 

Namjoon clears his throat, breaking the tension. “We’re just having a good time,” he says, his voice even, calm, as if those words don’t twist at something vulnerable inside you. “Why should we need to label things?” His question hangs in the air, breezy yet barbed, and it stings more than you care to admit.

Your heart gives a small, involuntary ache, but you swallow it down, as you’ve done so many times before. You’d love nothing more than to put a name to what this is, to solidify the feelings that swim in the spaces between you. But Namjoon’s words remind you where you stand, and you try to tuck those fragile hopes away, out of sight.

Instead, you plaster on a smirk, masking the sting, and turn to Jungkook. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on Jimin instead of meddling in our business, huh?” you tease, your voice light but with an edge of deflection.

Jungkook flinches, his face draining of color for a moment before flushing with a bright, mortified blush. He looks at you like you’ve unearthed a well-guarded secret, and his eyes widen in a way that makes you feel a small triumph.

“Yeah, we know,” you muse, the corners of your mouth lifting with satisfaction. Before the tension can thicken further, the oven timer beeps, and Namjoon turns to carefully pull the tray of cookies from the heat, the warm aroma of melted chocolate spilling into the air. He sets the tray aside to let the cookies cool, and you slide a new batch into the oven, trying to ground yourself in the familiar rhythm.

You grab a warm cookie and wrap it in a paper towel, turning back to Jungkook, who’s still blushing furiously. “Just because I like Jimin,” you quip, “I’ll give you a cookie for him—none for you.” You press the cookie into his hand, a grin curling at your lips. “Make sure to say hi from us. We know he’s up there in your bedroom.”

Jungkook’s blush deepens, his face blooming beet-red as he takes the cookie with reluctant, embarrassed hands. He mumbles something incoherent, then spins on his heel, hurrying back toward the stairs, too flustered to form a coherent protest. You watch him go, his retreat filling the room with a burst of humor that almost—but not quite—eases the ache still lingering in your heart.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in a flurry of flour and laughter, baking batch after batch of cookies. You try to push thoughts of your undefined relationship with Namjoon into the recesses of your mind, focusing instead on the gentle rhythm of your work. The cookies cool on wire racks, their chocolate-sweet aroma filling the kitchen and settling over you like a comforting blanket. Carefully, you pack them into glass jars adorned with festive ribbons, each one sparkling with the warm, nostalgic spirit of Christmas.

“Do you want to come with me to the orphanage to deliver the cookies?” you ask, your voice soft yet hopeful. Namjoon glances at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He agrees, and together you load the jars into your car. The scent of freshly baked cookies lingers, weaving itself through the crisp, frosty air as you drive down snow-dusted roads. The landscape is a winter wonderland with treetops crowned with snow, branches shimmering with icy lace, and the streets lined with drifts that sparkle under the pale afternoon light.

When you arrive at the orphanage, the children’s laughter and wide-eyed smiles fill you with a deep, quiet joy. Their faces light up as they receive the cookies, little hands clutching the sweet gifts, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell. Namjoon stands beside you, watching you interact with the kids. There’s something tender in his gaze, something he doesn’t put into words, but it wraps around you all the same.

On the drive back, the silence between you feels serene, softened by the shared experience. Snowflakes begin to drift lazily from the sky, catching in the beams of the headlights. Namjoon turns to you, his voice curious yet gentle. “So you do this every Christmas?” he asks, breaking the comfortable quiet.

You smile, your hands steady on the wheel as you flick the blinker to signal a turn. “Yeah,” you reply, your voice tinged with the sweet ache of memory. “Always. It’s something my mom used to do. When she passed, I wanted to carry on her tradition, to keep her spirit alive in this small way.” The words come out soft, but they hold the weight of years, love, and loss.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Namjoon says, his tone low and sincere. You glance over at him, offering a gentle smile, the kind that carries acceptance and peace. “It’s okay,” you say, your voice a quiet reassurance. “It happened a long time ago.”

He exhales, the breath almost visible in the chill of the car, and he clears his throat, nervous but determined. “Do you want to help me decorate my place?” he asks, his words a gentle offering. “And I’ll help get yours ready for Christmas too.”

A genuine smile breaks across your face, a warmth sparking in your chest. “Yeah, that sounds perfect,” you reply. “I’ll need to pick up some new ornaments, though. I know just the place we can go.” The idea of shopping for holiday decorations together, of filling both your spaces with light and laughter, feels like a small but significant promise.

Namjoon’s hand drifts down to rest on your thigh, a quiet gesture of connection that makes your heart flutter. His touch stays there for the rest of the ride, grounding you, warming you, as snowflakes twirl and dance outside the windows.

“Hi, babe,” Namjoon says, and just with that one simple word, he manages to unravel you. The casual endearment sends a shiver of longing through your heart, a tiny thrill that sparks questions you never quite manage to silence—the ones about what you really mean to each other. Your heart flutters like the wings of a restless bird, and even though a part of you wishes he didn’t have this power over you, there’s no denying it. Deep down, you love that he does. You crave the comfort and warmth he brings, even if you sometimes wish it came with the certainty of a label.

“Hi, Joonie,” you reply, your voice soft but bright, as if it alone can welcome him out of the winter cold. A rush of freezing air follows him inside, nipping at your cheeks, and you gesture hurriedly for him to come in and shut the chill away. 

He steps across the threshold, the scent of fresh snow clinging to his coat, and a smile unfurls on his lips, dimples deepening. “I was wondering if you’d show me your greenhouse again,” he says, and there’s a childlike wonder in his eyes, a curiosity that never fails to enchant you. “I’m curious to see what plants you have out there braving the winter. And maybe we could start some seeds for next season?”

His voice is filled with genuine interest, and the way he looks at you—wide-eyed and eager—melts something inside your chest. You can’t help but smile back. Those damn dimples of his, so disarming, so inexplicably endearing. “Oh, definitely,” you say, your eyes lighting up. “I’ve been meaning to sow some new seeds, actually. Peas, chilies, Asian greens—they thrive even in this frozen weather.”

“Can I help you?” he asks, his voice soft and sincere, a gentle offering that wraps around you like a warm scarf. The idea of working side by side with him, hands deep in the soil, fills you with quiet joy.

“Do you have time now?” he asks, his words tender, like he’s afraid of shattering the moment.

“Yeah,” you respond, feeling a surge of anticipation as you reach for something warm to wear. You pull on an extra-thick pair of wool socks, a cozy sweater, and then layer yourself in a heavy parka and boots. Namjoon is already dressed for the bitter cold, bundled up but still managing to look effortlessly handsome. Even though you’ll be spending time in the greenhouse, the air there is only a degree or two warmer than outside—it’s a space that holds more promise than heat during the winter.

Together, you make your way outside, your footsteps crunching in the snow. You lead the way, the cold biting at your cheeks, but the warmth of his presence close behind keeps you from feeling the chill too deeply. Sliding the glass door of the greenhouse open, you step inside and usher him in, closing the door behind you. The stillness of the space wraps around you both, the smell of damp earth mingling with the crisp scent of winter.

“Have you thought about getting a greenhouse of your own?” you ask, a playful lilt in your voice. It’s a conversation you’ve shared before, a running joke ever since he accidentally wrecked yours with that wild ball throw months ago. You watch his face for a reaction, and he laughs, a deep, rich sound that seems to warm the chilly air around you.

“Yeah, I think I’d like to get one for the summer season,” Namjoon muses, his voice thoughtful, warm as a patch of sunlight breaking through clouds. “But I’m still not sure. That’s part of why I’m so curious about what you’ve managed to grow in the dead of winter. If I’m going to invest in one, I want to make the most of it, you know?” He pauses, a playful grin curving his lips as he glances at you. “But honestly, maybe I should just keep helping you with yours. It’s more fun together, don’t you think?” 

He tucks his hands into his jeans pockets, wandering deeper into the greenhouse, his gaze sweeping over the lush, vibrant greens defying the frost outside. Even in the shelter of the greenhouse, the air is tinged with the crispness of winter, but Namjoon’s presence feels like a hearth fire—steady, comforting, and a little too warm when you think of how easily he fits into these shared moments.

“I understand,” you say, your voice as tender as the soft leaves unfurling in your garden beds. “And you’re always welcome in my greenhouse, you know that.” You follow close behind him, pointing out the resilient Asian salads thriving in their earthy homes: delicate mibuna, sturdy bok choy, crisp cabbage, and even the spicy thrill of wasabi salad. There’s purple kale, vibrant and defiant against the cold, and winter carrots, their secrets buried until it’s time to harvest.

Namjoon’s eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief. “Oh, so you did manage to grow something after I, uh, accidentally destroyed your greenhouse?” He gestures toward the patch of winter carrots, a sheepish look stealing across his face.

You chuckle, the memory of his well-meaning chaos warming you. “Yeah, I did,” you reply, a smile dancing on your lips. “You can even try one if you want.”

With that, Namjoon kneels gracefully by the garden bed. Even through the bulky layers of his coat, the contours of his body are undeniable, and your traitorous mind takes note of the way his dark jeans hug him in all the right places. He reaches for a carrot, pulling at the green stem with gentle strength until a large, brilliantly orange carrot emerges from the soil. As he brushes the dirt away, he raises it to his lips, and there’s something distractingly captivating about the way he bites into it. The crisp snap of the carrot echoes in the stillness, a sound that somehow makes your breath hitch.

“It’s good,” he says, his voice reverent, like he’s savoring more than just a vegetable. “Crisp and sweet.” His words are innocent enough, but heat blooms on your cheeks as your mind wanders to other things that are, admittedly, very sweet.

“So, what are we going to sow?” he asks, watching as you gather trays and soil. There’s an excitement in his gaze, an eagerness that makes your own heart quicken.

“Like I said earlier,” you reply, grinning as you lay out the seedling trays in a neat row on the workbench. “Peas first. They’re hardy, even in this cold, and planting them early means we’ll have a head start on the harvest. We can sow extra so you’ll have some to take home and plant in your garden. They’re amazing because they climb and flourish wherever they’re given even a little support.” 

“And then, chilies,” you continue, your eyes sparkling. “We’ll start them here, but they’ll need to come inside to sprout, where it’s warmer. It’s always good to start them early so they can be transferred outside when spring rolls in. Later in the new year, we can put them in the greenhouse or straight into the garden beds.” You take a breath and continue, “And of course, more greens and salads. They’re slower to sprout in this cold, but they’ll make it, strong and resilient, like little winter warriors.”

Namjoon listens intently, his gaze never leaving you. There’s a peacefulness in the moment, as if the greenhouse holds its breath, cocooning you both in a world of shared ambitions and quiet dreams.

You suddenly realize you’ve forgotten the seeds. “Ah, I left the seeds inside,” you say, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Wait here while I grab them.” Namjoon nods, his eyes following you as you hurry back to the house, the cold nipping at your heels, urgency making you quick on your feet. 

Inside, you snatch up the old tin where you keep your seeds—its surface worn and familiar, full of whispered promises of new life waiting to burst forth from the soil. When you return to the greenhouse, you pause for a moment, caught by the sight of Namjoon. He’s crouched low, his focus completely absorbed by a small bok choy plant, tracing the way its tender, jade-hued leaves meld into deep shadows where the veins run dark. There’s a quiet reverence in his expression, as though he’s marveling at the tiny miracle of survival in the cold. 

“We can get started,” you say, a soft smile warming your face. Namjoon rises, his dimples peeking out as he grins back, and joins you in front of the workbench. You pour soil into a wide basin, mixing in perlite and vermiculite, the earthy aroma mingling with the crisp air. Your hands work with practiced grace, kneading the soil to loosen its texture, giving it life and breath.

“I’ve never added perlite or vermiculite to soil before,” Namjoon admits, wonder flickering in his voice as he watches the small white and gold specks sift through your fingers. You giggle, a sound as light and unburdened as petals drifting on a breeze. Most people don’t bother, but you’ve always been particular about these things.

“Try it sometime,” you encourage. “It makes for the best potting mix—less dense, better drainage, and the roots love it. And always use seed-starting soil. It has less fertilizer, so it’s gentler on seedlings.” Your hands press through the soil, feeling every grain and clump, savoring the dirt wedging beneath your nails. You’ve never cared for gloves; the raw, honest texture of the earth grounds you, as if reminding you that growth is always a little messy.

Namjoon tilts his head, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “I thought fertilizer was good?” he asks, and for a moment, you can’t help but wonder if his passion for plants runs as deep as he claims. But then again, you know that not everyone shares your level of obsession.

“It is—once the plant has grown a bit,” you explain, meeting his gaze with a patient smile. “Too much, too soon, and it can harm the seedling. Gentle care first, then nourishment.” You gesture for him to step closer, feeling the way the greenhouse seems to shrink around you, warm and cocooned.

He reaches for a packet of seeds—peas, full of promise—and you prepare the seedling tray, filling each cell with your custom soil mix. Using your dibber, you create neat holes for planting. Namjoon leans closer, and together you work in quiet tandem, dropping each tiny seed into its place, the rhythm of it comforting, like a shared heartbeat.

When you finish the tray, you dust your dirt-stained hands together. “Great. Now onto the next seeds,” you declare, and Namjoon dives in to help. His hands move alongside yours, scooping soil, pressing it down gently, but not too tight, and it feels strangely intimate, this act of creating life together.

Namjoon watches you, a hint of mischief curling at the edges of his thoughts. You’re skilled at this, at working with your hands—deliberate, sure, and endlessly fascinating. His mind drifts, unbidden, to the times your hands have moved over him, how your touch has lit up his world in ways that make him blush now, here among tender greens and the scent of new soil. Damn it, he chides himself, this isn’t the time to be thinking such thoughts.

But it’s hard not to, with the memory of your touch and the taste of your laughter tangled together in his mind, like vines climbing toward the light.

He flashes a mischievous grin. “You know, I love getting a little dirty with you in the garden,” he teases, his voice playful and warm as he gives you a gentle nudge with his shoulder. You laugh, the sound bright and ringing through the greenhouse, and a rosy blush colors your cheeks as the double meaning sinks in. It’s a shared, private joke, laced with an intimacy that makes your heart skip.

Together, you keep working, your hands growing numb from the cold, yet neither of you want to stop. The chill is creeping into your bones, but the way you work side by side, sowing seeds and exchanging glances, brings a certain kind of warmth all on its own. When the final seed is nestled in the soil and the last tray prepared, you finally shiver. “We should take the chili seedlings inside,” you say, your breath visible in the icy air. “And… do you want to come in for a bit? I could bake a cake and make some hot cocoa.”

Namjoon’s eyes light up, and he smiles wide, the kind that shows his dimples. “I couldn’t say no to that,” he replies, a hint of excitement in his voice. He grabs the glass door, holding it open for you as you step out, and he follows, closing it behind with a satisfying click.

Inside the house, warmth greets you like an embrace. You shed your heavy parka and boots, and Namjoon mirrors your actions, his movements unhurried, as if savoring this transition from the cold to the cozy. You carry the seedling tray over to the kitchen window, where a grow light waits to nurture the tiny plants. The sun has set, painting the world outside in hues of blue and shadow, but the light inside feels like hope.

Gathering ingredients, you set to work making hot cocoa, the rich scent of chocolate already beginning to fill the air. Namjoon pulls a stool from the dining area and drags it closer, settling down to watch you. He doesn’t say a word, but his gaze is intent, as though he’s entranced by the rhythm of your hands as they move. Your fingers skim over a packet of flour, measure brown sugar with precision, and whisk together the batter for a carrot cake with the greenhouse carrots you stored in the fridge. 

Namjoon is captivated. He always is during moments like this—when you’re fully in your element, focused and graceful, your movements as fluid and sure as a melody. His eyes trace your hands, trailing from the way your fingers curl around a spoon to how you tilt your head slightly, concentrating. There’s something magnetic about it, the way you pour yourself into the simplest tasks, as if even the act of baking holds an unspoken promise of care.

But as he watches, the heat in his gaze deepens, a flush creeping up the back of his neck. His body betrays him, a familiar stirring between his thighs. It shouldn’t surprise him anymore—how easily you have this effect on him, even when you’re not trying. But he can’t help it, can’t control how the sight of your hands moving so deftly, so sensuously over everyday things, ignites thoughts he knows he shouldn’t entertain right now. 

He shifts subtly on the stool, grateful for the kitchen counter that hides the evidence of his arousal, while you remain blissfully unaware, pouring the batter into a baking mold with a contented hum. Namjoon bites his lip and takes a steadying breath, trying to refocus on the warmth of this moment, even as temptation tugs at the edges of his mind.

When you slide the cake batter into the oven, the warm scent of spices already beginning to fill the air, you turn your attention back to Namjoon. Something in his expression seems off—or perhaps, not quite off, but different. There’s a tension in the way he sits, his body radiating heat, his eyes darkened with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. 

Curious, you move past the kitchen counter, your footsteps soft against the wooden floor. As soon as you round the corner and see him clearly, you stop in your tracks, your breath catching in a startled, husky “oh.” Your voice wavers, that simple exclamation filled with an undeniable hunger.

Namjoon lets out a low, teasing chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. Realizing there’s no use in hiding his desire, he shifts, spreading his legs wider in the chair. The movement makes the strain in his jeans even more obvious, the hard outline pressing against the denim, leaving nothing to the imagination. Heat rushes through your veins, your gaze flickering between his smoldering brown eyes and the undeniable evidence of his arousal.

“You’re so good with your hands, babe,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a sultry, resonant purr that drips with need. “Why don’t you put them to good use and help me with this problem?” His words are thick with desire, and he gestures toward the bulge, which seems to pulse with a life of its own, the denim stretched taut and unforgiving. You can’t help but wonder if the fabric is torturously tight, if he’s even comfortable in those form-fitting jeans.

You step closer, your movements slow, languid, like a feline circling her prey. Your eyes glitter with a mix of playful defiance and unrestrained want. A knowing smile tugs at your lips as you draw nearer, deliberately dragging out each moment to make him squirm. “Hmm,” you hum, batting your lashes provocatively, savoring the power in your hands. You trail your fingers lightly across his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle through his gray turtleneck, and he shudders under your touch.

Circling him, you let your gaze wander over his flushed face, loving how he stares at you like you’re the only thing he needs in this moment. “Jungkook isn’t home,” you muse, your voice a low, teasing whisper, “and the cake won’t be done for a while…” Your finger traces down his torso, each touch featherlight, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake. “Which gives us plenty of time to deal with this very big problem.”

You finish with a suggestive wink, your hand curling into the soft collar of his turtleneck, drawing him forward. His eyes burn with the kind of desire that makes your knees weak, and you can’t help but marvel at how turtlenecks have never looked so delicious until now. His lips part, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him, your bratty side flaring up, eager to take control of the moment.

“Take off those offending skinny jeans, and maybe I’ll help you out,” you purr, your voice a delicious blend of tease and command. You lean in to press a swift, hungry kiss to his lips, the taste of him lingering as you pull back, and in a fluid motion, you’re down on the cool floor. Namjoon’s fingers are fumbling with urgency, unbuttoning and dragging his jeans and boxers down, setting himself free. His cock springs out, flushed a deep, angry red, heavy and aching for your touch. The sight of him makes your mouth water, anticipation crackling in the air between you.

He lets out a mock pout, breathless yet endearing. “But I thought you liked me in skinny jeans,” he mumbles, a half-smile curving his lips.

You can’t help but laugh, your voice warm and laced with desire. “I do,” you reply, your eyes dancing with mischief, “but they look so damn tight. Besides, I’d much rather see you in loose sweatpants—so shameless, the way they cling to you, showing off that big cock of yours.”

His cheeks flush a deeper pink, but the blush is short-lived. The moment your hand wraps around his thick length, he’s groaning, a low, unrestrained sound that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His head tips back, and you pull your hand away for a moment to spit in your palm, the motion slow and tantalizing. His breath catches, and then your hand is back on him, gliding over his cock with a slick, practiced rhythm.

You start slow, your touch light, your strokes deep and deliberate, savoring the way he shudders under your hands. Namjoon stumbles backward, his back meeting the counter for support, his knuckles whitening as he grips the edges. You follow him, still on your knees, looking up at him through your lashes, loving the way his brows knit together, his jaw slack with pleasure.

“So good with your hands,” he praises, his voice raw and wrecked, and you preen under the compliment, your lips curving into a wicked smile. His words fuel you, and you tighten your grip, picking up speed, letting your hand work over him with a skill that has his hips stuttering.

“Yeah, I know,” you muse, a playful lilt to your tone, eyes wide and feigning innocence though your actions are anything but. “You’ve told me before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it.”

He lets out a breathless chuckle, his chest heaving. “Ah, yeah,” he pants, his voice a beautiful, strained melody. “I know how much you love praise.”

You shrug, your expression one of nonchalance, though your heart is racing. “Guilty as charged,” you admit, your voice softer, but no less mischievous. His praise drives you, makes you work harder to draw out every bit of pleasure, reveling in the way his body reacts, knowing that your hands—and your lust—are the only things holding him together.

He begins to make those sounds—oh, those sweet, broken sounds that send a thrill dancing down your spine and make you preen with pride. The husky groans slipping from his lips are like music, raw and intoxicating, and you drink them in, feeling the power in every shudder of his body.

“Shit, if you keep that up, I’m going to come soon,” he pants, his voice strained and desperate.

A playful smile curves your lips as you chuckle, the sound dripping with mischief. “That was my plan all along,” you tease, your strokes never faltering. “But maybe,” you whisper, your voice honeyed and inviting, “you’d like to fuck my throat a little. My hands are good, sure, but my mouth…” You let the words trail off, your intentions clear in the way your eyes glint with lust.

He groans again, and he swears his heart must be doing wild backflips as he watches you kneel between his legs, looking up at him with those wicked, innocent eyes. “Fuck,” he chokes out, his breath hitching, and you know you’ve got him. 

“Is that a yes?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, the very picture of innocence that you most certainly are not.

He nods, his voice nearly a whisper, “Yes, yes it is, babe.”

That’s all the invitation you need. Your mouth opens, and you slowly ease his cock past your lips, wet heat enveloping him inch by inch. He shivers at the sensation, and you relish the tiny, desperate noise that escapes him when you take him all the way to the back of your throat. You hum, sending vibrations along his length, and saliva spills from the corners of your mouth, glistening as it drips down your chin.

Namjoon looks down at you, eyes blown wide, and you can feel the way his cock pulses at the sight—how the vision of you, mouth full of him, drives him wild and hurtles him closer to the edge. His hands clutch at the countertop behind him, knuckles white, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

You work him with a fervor, sucking like you’re drawing the very life from him, your hands pressing into his thighs for balance. Your nails dig into his skin, and the sharp pleasure-pain makes him hiss, a shudder rippling through his frame.

“Oh, babe,” he groans, the sound rumbling deep and sinful, making your core clench around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly. His words are rough, a plea and a praise all at once, and you moan in response, the vibrations making him jolt.

Saliva spills from your lips, pooling beneath you, and you feel the way his cock twitches and throbs against your tongue. Namjoon’s breathing is ragged, each pant a testament to how close he is, how you’ve unraveled him. He’s hanging on by a thread, and you revel in knowing you’ve brought him to this point, trembling and undone.

“Babe,” he gasps, his voice raw, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure, like he’s unravelling from the inside out. His whole body is taut with need, and you feel a thrill course through you, knowing how deeply you affect him.

You pull away, your lips leaving his cock with a wet, teasing pop, and you look up at him, eyes glittering with mischief. “Come on my face,” you whisper, the invitation dripping from your lips like honey, sultry and certain.

He bites down hard on his lower lip, a deep, guttural groan escaping him. One of his hands releases its white-knuckled grip on the kitchen counter, and he wraps his long fingers around his cock, stroking himself to his climax. You watch, utterly mesmerized, as he comes undone. His release is spectacular—thick ropes of hot, pearlescent white paint your skin, catching on your cheeks, lips, and eyelashes. You gasp, tongue darting out in a futile attempt to catch some of his warmth on your lips. The rest splatters messily across your face, dripping down your chin and streaking across your closed eyelids. The whole moment feels heady, unrestrained, and you can’t help but savor it.

Namjoon’s chest rises and falls heavily, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, like he’s run a marathon just to reach this peak. A satisfied chuckle spills from his mouth, and he drags a trembling hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “You,” he says, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and lingering desire, “are a dangerous woman.”

A wicked grin blooms on your lips as you giggle, sticking your tongue out to lick the semen you can reach. Your fingers swipe up the rest, and you suck them clean, savoring him like sticky, decadent BBQ sauce on tender ribs. Delicious. The sight makes Namjoon shiver, another groan rumbling from his chest, his eyes never leaving your face.

Just then, the oven chimes, the sound almost absurdly cheerful, signaling that the cake is ready. You rise to your feet, wiping your face with a towel, and make your way over to the oven to retrieve it. Namjoon watches, dazed, as he tugs his jeans back into place, still trying to catch his breath.

Once the cake has cooled, you sit together at the kitchen table, sharing warm slices of carrot cake and steaming mugs of rich hot cocoa. The two of you laugh and talk, savoring the warmth and sweetness of the moment, reminiscing about your favorite Christmas traditions, as the world outside shivers in a cold winter’s embrace.

Namjoon doesn’t often find himself behind the wheel, but today, you’ve let him take charge of his SUV, navigating snowy roads en route to the superstore for Christmas ornaments. It’s not your usual go-to place for holiday decorations, but he’d been so eager, so insistent, that you couldn’t resist. Now here you are, braving the cold with an unusual sense of adventure.

Though Namjoon handles the SUV with a tentative grip, you can’t help but question, as you have many times before, why he even bothered to get a driver’s license in the first place. He never seems fully at ease, and his response—“Everyone has one, and I need it”—always strikes you as a half-hearted excuse. But still, you get it. Out here, where the stores sprawl far and wide, the independence a car brings is a necessity, not a luxury.

He finally pulls into the parking lot, choosing a spot absurdly far from the store’s entrance, the car a lonely island surrounded by an ocean of untouched snow. You laugh, breath misting into the winter air. It’s such a Namjoon thing to do: a cautious maneuver, the kind either born from nervousness about navigating tight parking spaces or, perhaps, the desire to protect his vehicle from rogue shopping carts and careless door dings. But you know him too well—he’s not someone obsessed with material possessions.

Bundled up in your thick coat and scarf, you trudge across the frigid parking lot, boots crunching on the ice-slicked pavement, silently cursing Namjoon’s overcautious choice. The cold gnaws at your cheeks, and you can’t hide the frown forming on your face.

Namjoon notices, and his expression softens with apology. “I’m sorry,” he says, his breath forming tiny clouds in the frosty air.

“It’s fine,” you grumble, though there’s no real heat behind your words. “But I’m driving back.” Your voice holds a note of mock seriousness, and he breaks into a chuckle, the sound light and airy, dissipating into the wintry sky like a whispered secret.

Inside the superstore, the air feels warm and festive, the smell of pine and cinnamon drifting faintly from somewhere. A dazzling aisle dedicated entirely to Christmas ornaments stretches before you, shimmering with glitter and tinsel. You watch in mild disbelief as Namjoon gleefully fills his cart with gingerbread house kits, plush stockings, strings of tinsel, garlands, and ornaments that glitter like captured starlight.

“Don’t you have decorations from last year?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as the cart reaches a borderline ridiculous state, nearly overflowing with festive cheer.

He scratches the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Well,” he starts, laughter bubbling up, “I did.”

You cross your arms and turn to him, your eyes narrowing with mock suspicion, silently demanding the story behind this sudden lack of decorations. Namjoon’s laughter grows, filling the space around you, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself, bracing for whatever endearingly clumsy tale he’s about to share.

“I dropped all the boxes with the Christmas decorations while moving,” Namjoon mumbles, his voice soft as a snowfall, almost swallowed by the warm air. His embarrassment paints his cheeks with a blush that’s sweeter than mulled wine, and you can’t help but burst into laughter. Without a second thought, you wrap your arm around his broad frame, a warm, playful gesture that feels as natural as breathing.

“Thought so,” you tease, laughter spilling from your lips, echoing like bells ringing through the icy parking lot.

Namjoon’s blush deepens, a rosy warmth that makes him look endearingly boyish. Still, he continues with his mission, selecting ornaments with the earnest focus of someone determined to reclaim lost holiday cheer. Once the cart is brimming with festive treasures, he pushes it outside, the wheels wobbling and skidding over the snow-dappled asphalt.

“I can’t believe they haven’t cleared the snow yet,” you scoff, tugging open the hatch and helping to load up his haul. Each ornament feels like a little promise of magic, waiting to light up the winter nights.

“Yeah, not the easiest thing to push through,” he chuckles, his laughter a quiet rumble, like distant thunder softened by clouds.

He returns the cart, clumsily navigating the slippery ground, and then hands you the keys with a smile. Sliding into the driver’s seat, you take the wheel and guide the SUV back to his place, where the real magic begins.

Inside his warm home, Namjoon hauls the bags and boxes indoors, and you peel off your thick coat, the heat wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. His house feels almost like your own now, a second heart beating in rhythm with your own. You move easily into his kitchen, making tea with the practiced comfort of someone who belongs there. The kettle sings as you pour hot amber liquid into cups, steam curling like ghostly ribbons.

Namjoon, meanwhile, sifts through his purchases, creating little piles of tinsel, baubles, and gingerbread house kits, organizing the chaos with a delighted gleam in his eye. You join him in the living room, stringing up fairy lights that twinkle like fallen stars, draping garlands of tinsel over every surface. He paints his windows with swirling snow scenes and delicate winter landscapes, and you marvel at his handiwork, secretly wishing he’d come and transform your windows, too.

Christmas music fills the room, and the two of you sing along, voices blending together in a harmony of laughter and half-remembered lyrics. You dance around the room, giggling until your cheeks ache, joy blooming warm and bright against the winter outside. When the final ornament is hung on the tree and the garlands rest perfectly in place, you both collapse onto the couch, still breathless with laughter. Your playful energy lingers, bubbling over into gentle touches and mischievous smiles, and you find yourselves tangled together on the sofa, the festive glow softening every shadow. Time slips away until it’s late, the kind of late that feels heavy with dreams, and you realize it’s time to go home. But even as you leave, Namjoon’s warmth and the laughter you’ve shared linger, lighting up the cold night like the twinkling stars outside.

You take a step back, your eyes wide and brimming with a sense of wonder, marveling at the world you’ve created within the cozy walls of your home. The decorations glow softly, string lights shimmering like constellations, and every garland and ornament seems to dance in the warm embrace of the holiday spirit. Namjoon’s snowy landscapes even grace your windows, delicate swirls of frosted white transforming your view into a winter fairy tale. It feels so perfectly Christmas—Hygge, as the Danish call it, a word that holds all the warmth and comfort of shared moments and quiet joy.

In the corner stands your plastic tree, tall and proud, adorned with an eclectic mix of ornaments and lights. Its colors catch the twinkle of the lights strung around the room, a joyful echo of Namjoon’s more organic tree. You think back to the way he had explained, with that earnest passion of his, why he chooses to get a real tree each year—to support local farmers and give back to the environment in his own way. You remember laughing and teasing him about the effort, happy with your fuss-free tree, but secretly admiring the way he cares so deeply for the world around him.

“Do you want to come with me to the plant store today?” you ask, your voice soft, floating like the steam curling up from your cup of hot cocoa. Namjoon smiles wide, his dimples deepening, and the warmth of that grin feels like a little burst of sunlight on a winter day. He’s wearing glasses today—big, bold black frames, because he lost his contacts—and with his cozy wool turtleneck, he looks every bit the sexy professor you’ve always daydreamed about. You have to stop yourself from staring, but God, the man is a vision, and he’s right here beside you, yours. Well, hopefully he’s yours—there’s always that tiny flicker of uncertainty, but for now, it feels enough.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he says, his voice rich with warmth.

You drain the last of your cocoa, savoring the sweetness, and soon the two of you are bundled up, making your way across the icy path to his SUV. You take the driver’s seat without hesitation, your hands confident on the wheel. The snow-laden roads have always felt thrilling to navigate, and the car hums softly with the gentle croon of Christmas music drifting from the radio.

The silence between you is comfortable, wrapped in the magic of the season, until Namjoon turns to you, breaking the quiet with a question. “What are you doing this Christmas?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

You flick the windshield wipers on, watching the snow melt away in streaks. “Just spending it with Kookie,” you say, your smile bittersweet. “Without my mom, and with my dad’s Alzheimer’s… well, I just stay home now.” Your voice carries the weight of old memories, the ones that sting a little but still feel precious. You can’t help but think of past Christmases, filled with laughter and warmth, and the ache of their absence lingers, but so does the gratitude for what you still have.

Namjoon shifts, his concern evident. “You’re not going to visit your dad?” he asks, his curiosity mingling with worry, and he quickly realizes it might be a painful subject.

“I do visit him,” you explain softly, your voice gentle, like a snowflake drifting down. “But… he doesn’t remember me as his daughter anymore. It’s hard, sitting there and watching him struggle to place me. But I still go, even if he doesn’t know who I am. Because, well, it matters.” The sorrow is there, but it’s wrapped in acceptance, a quiet strength you’ve carried for years. You catch the sadness in Namjoon’s eyes and smile, a small reassurance. “It’s alright. Really. I’ve made peace with it. And Kookie makes Christmas feel like family again.”

Namjoon’s frown lingers, but there’s something tender in his expression, an unspoken promise that he understands, or at least wants to. And in that shared moment, with snow whispering against the windows and the world cocooned in winter’s embrace, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

“What about you?” you ask, your voice warm with curiosity as you guide the car onto the road leading to your favorite sanctuary—the plant store, a haven of greenery and seasonal enchantment, where Christmas decor shimmers among leafy life.

Namjoon’s eyes light up, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m spending Christmas with my sister, nephew, and my parents. They’re all coming to my place because, you know, I’ve got that big house now,” he says with a laugh that dances in the air. You recall the image of him from months ago, holding that little boy’s hand. You’d once mistaken the child for his own, only to learn he was the devoted uncle, always stepping in to help his sister.

“That sounds really lovely,” you muse, your voice softening with a wistful undertone, like the ghost of a melody from a long-lost song. The ache is familiar: a yearning for the warmth and chaotic joy of Christmases past, for the easy laughter and the irreplaceable comfort of family. A tear slips, unbidden, down your cheek, and you quickly brush it away with the back of your hand, hoping he won’t notice. But Namjoon’s gaze, gentle and perceptive, catches everything.

He reaches out, his hand warm on your thigh, a grounding touch. “Maybe… we could have a Christmas dinner?” he suggests, his voice hopeful. “Just for our friends. Maybe the day before Christmas Eve, since that’s when my family arrives.”

You sniffle, pulling the car into the bustling parking lot, where cars glisten under a light dusting of snow. Unlike Namjoon, who prefers the solitude of the far-off spaces, you park right up front, as close as you can get. “That sounds really nice,” you admit, though your words carry a hint of guardedness. “But, please, don’t turn it into a pity party for me.”

Namjoon nods, understanding shining in his dark eyes. “That wasn’t my intention,” he promises. “I just think it’d be nice for all of us. No pity, just good company and holiday cheer.” His smile is genuine, disarming, and he unbuckles his seatbelt as you cut the engine, the car falling silent save for the occasional thud of snow hitting the windshield.

Stepping out, the cold air nips at your skin, each breath a puff of white mist. The snow falls steadily, blanketing the world in a quiet, crystalline beauty. You hurry to grab a cart, already anticipating the treasures you’ll load into it.

Inside, the store is an odd middle ground between brisk and balmy, chilled enough to keep the plants thriving but not as bone-numbing as the winter outside. The first thing to catch your eye is the dazzling array of string lights, tinsel, and an extravagant display featuring Santa’s sleigh, his reindeer poised mid-flight over faux snow, glistening like diamond dust. Namjoon’s eyes widen with childlike wonder as he drifts toward the scene, marveling out loud at every intricate detail. His awe is contagious, and you find yourself grinning as he disappears into a life-sized gingerbread house, its candy-cane pillars twinkling.

Together, you weave through aisles of holiday magic. You pick up a snow globe with a penguin bundled in a sky-blue scarf, the world inside it swirling with glittering snow. It makes you smile, so into the cart it goes. Purple ornaments catch your eye—rare and radiant, the perfect find for your collection. You toss them in with a feeling of quiet triumph. Your hand lingers on a wooden reindeer, beautifully carved and rich with detail, a rustic piece that seems to carry the very spirit of the forest. You trace its elegant antlers with your fingertips, then place it carefully in the cart.

Namjoon catches your eye, his glasses slightly fogged from the store’s temperature shift, and your heart does a little flip. 

Namjoon stands in the store, eyes wide with wonder, looking at everything like a child waking up to magic on Christmas morning. His excitement radiates, pure and joyful, igniting the air around you with an energy that is impossible to resist. Yes, the store might resemble a festive explosion—every aisle drenched in holiday cheer as though Santa himself had painted the place with his overflowing bag of marvels—but watching Namjoon, awe-struck and glowing, is everything. A smile blooms on your face, gentle yet irrepressible, as your heart picks up speed. It flutters wildly, as if it holds a kaleidoscope of butterflies desperate to take flight. Warmth rises to your cheeks, a blush deepening and spreading, while your mind surrenders to thoughts of him and only him.

A quiet realization unfolds, maybe you should finally have that “where is this going?” talk with Namjoon. Because, damn, you know you’ve fallen hard, hopelessly and beautifully.

Your eyes catch sight of an aisle bursting with rolls of gift wrap, and you drift over, searching for the minimalist designs that you love. Just as you reach out for a roll in understated gold, Namjoon clears his throat, drawing your gaze back to him. There’s that smile, the one that makes your heart skip and your knees feel like jelly. He points upward, and you follow his gesture to the ceiling. String lights twinkle in every hue, casting a soft, whimsical glow. Hanging there, nestled amidst the colorful illumination, is a sprig of mistletoe; vivid green with playful red berries, promising a bit of holiday mischief.

A laugh escapes you, light and melodic. “Oh, so you want a kiss?” you tease, your voice brimming with warmth.

Namjoon chuckles, and the sound feels like a spark lighting up something inside you. “You know,” you murmur, leaning in just a touch, “you don’t need mistletoe to kiss me. I always want to kiss you.”

He doesn’t need any more prompting. Both of you move at once, lips meeting in a rush that’s tender yet hungry. The world falls away as your mouths meld together, and his hands find their way around your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You melt into him, a soft moan slipping from your lips, echoing the need that simmers between you. When you finally break apart, a breathless laugh leaves your mouth, the air between you charged and electric. Namjoon’s gaze is dark and glassy, his desire plain to see, and you know yours must mirror the same intensity.

“Are you done with your shopping?” he asks, his voice husky and threaded with want. His words make you bite your lip, heat pooling low in your belly as you nod, barely able to think straight.

“Great,” he replies, his tone velvet and commanding. He takes the cart from your grasp, his fingers brushing yours with a touch that leaves you reeling, and he pushes it toward the checkout. His assertiveness makes your pulse race, a delicious thrill running through you. Somehow, you manage to pay for the Christmas treasures and help load everything into his car, though your mind spins with anticipation. Namjoon returns the cart, his long strides carrying him back to you as snow continues to fall, whispering secrets to the earth.

You climb into the car, turning it on. The heat slowly creeps in, but the temperature between you and Namjoon is already scorching. The air feels thick, heavy with unspoken desires, the kind of tension that crackles and leaves you breathless. He hums along to the Christmas song playing softly on the radio, but your thoughts wander, fixating on his voice, his lips, the memory of the way he kisses you, the way his mouth explores your pussy. You shift uncomfortably, desire making you restless, and you catch yourself before you lose focus on the snow-laden road.

Namjoon chuckles, a low, knowing sound, but he doesn’t move to touch you, though his presence is intoxicating. A part of you craves his hands, his warmth, his everything, but you’re grateful for his restraint. Not while you’re driving, you think, exhaling in a blend of frustration and exhilaration. It would be dangerous, especially on these slick, icy streets. Yet even without his touch, the tension coils tightly, promising a night that will be anything but cold.

You pull into your driveway, snowflakes swirling and dissolving in the twilight air, and as soon as the car engine cuts off, anticipation buzzes through your veins. With a swift click of your seatbelt, you’re out of your restraints and leaning over. You grab the thick collar of Namjoon’s jacket, tugging him closer, your mouths colliding in a heated, desperate kiss. Your lips part, breaths mingling, and a low growl escapes you, primal and hungry, as if you’ve been starving for this moment. You don’t know how long you devour each other like that, your hands fisting his jacket, your heart racing as he groans into your kiss.

When you finally break apart, Namjoon’s chuckle rumbles between you, warm and infectious. “Shouldn’t we… maybe… take this inside?” he teases, his voice husky, eyes glittering with barely restrained desire.

You bite your lip, a playful grin spreading across your face. “Yeah, we should.” Without a second thought, you scramble out of the car, forgetting the mound of Christmas decorations packed in the back. You only have one thing on your mind. Grabbing Namjoon’s hand, you lead him through the cold afternoon, hurrying to escape the winter air and into the sanctuary of warmth inside.

Once you’re in, both of you shed your coats and kick off your boots in a frenzy, laughter echoing in the foyer. His eyes are dark, stormy with arousal, and your pulse quickens, a delicious anticipation settling in your core. “I don’t think Jungkook’s home,” you say, your voice breathy as you nibble your lip, taking his hand again. He lets you drag him up the stairs, his grip firm, electrifying.

Inside your room, you don’t waste a second. You pull him close, your hands cradling his face as you kiss him with a ferocity that makes your knees weak. His hands slide to your waist, guiding you back until your legs hit the bed, and you can’t suppress the shudder that rolls through you.

“Namjoon,” you pant, lips brushing his, “I want you. I need you.”

His eyes burn with intensity as he rasps, “I know. I need you too, baby.” The low, gravelly timbre of his voice sends a wave of heat coursing through you, but frustration boils over. 

“I want your cock,” you admit, desire raw in your voice, making no room for subtlety.

He pauses, then breaks into a chuckle that’s rich and rough, slicing through the tension with ease. “My cock, huh?” he teases, eyebrows arching. “Is that all I’m good for?”

You pull back slightly, heart lurching at the implication, and your eyes widen in disbelief. “What? No,” you insist, voice softening, sincerity bleeding through. You turn your gaze to him, your expression fierce but tender. “Your cock is nice and very good, but it’s you that I love,” you confess, the words tumbling out, bare and vulnerable.

For a beat, there’s a silence that seems to suspend the universe. Your heart stops, bracing for his reaction, hoping you haven’t ruined this, that you haven’t scared him off. But then his lips curve into a smirk, one so full of warmth it melts your doubts.

“Good thing I love you too,” he murmurs, pulling you close again.

You don’t get the chance to respond; his mouth is on yours, urgent and consuming. He presses you down onto the bed, his lips trailing from your cheek to your ear, where his breath ghosts over your skin, sending shivers of delight racing down your spine. You moan, your eyes fluttering shut, breath hitching as he whispers in your ear, voice low and dangerous.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, babe,” he promises, his words sending a molten thrill straight through you. “So good that no one else will ever compare.”

The sheer need in his voice makes you pant, heat pooling between your thighs. “I don’t want anyone else,” you whisper, your hands splaying over his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart.

“Me neither,” he murmurs, before dipping down to suck a mark into the curve of your neck. The sensation makes you moan, your pussy clenching with anticipation. God, you’re already soaked, desire pulsing through every nerve, and as he lays claim to your skin, you know you’ll never want anyone but him.

He pauses, lips still flushed from the kiss, and pulls back with a soft, playful sigh. “These glasses are in the way,” he mutters, sliding them off and setting them aside. Your immediate frown makes him laugh, a deep, resonant sound that you feel in your chest. 

“What?” he asks, eyes dancing with amusement. “Do you actually like my glasses?”

You bite your lip and nod, a smirk curving your mouth. “Yeah. You look stupidly hot with them on—like some impossibly sexy professor,” you giggle, the words spilling out like a secret you’ve been holding in.

His eyebrows lift, a teasing smile spreading across his face. “Oh?” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again, lips brushing yours with renewed heat.

You giggle, the lightness of the moment threading through your desire. “But can you even see me?” you tease, your voice lilting.

He chuckles, a warm rumble against your skin. “Not very well. You’re just a blurry outline.”

“A sexy blur,” you correct with a laugh, playfulness and arousal weaving together.

He hums in agreement, nuzzling your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire. “My sexy blur,” he whispers, sending shivers racing down your spine. But you gently push him back, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I want you to really see me,” you say, your fingers searching the bed until they find his glasses. You carefully slip them back onto his face, adjusting them so they sit just right. “There,” you whisper. “Now you can see me again. My sexy Joon.”

Namjoon grins, the lenses framing his eyes in a way that makes your pulse race, and he slowly straightens, standing at the edge of your bed. His hands move with purpose as he undresses, each piece of clothing falling away to reveal hard planes of muscle and soft, warm skin. When he’s down to his black boxers, his arousal straining visibly against the fabric, you can’t help but draw in a sharp breath, desire crackling in the air between you.

He watches as you sit up, your gaze locked on him, and you lift your shirt over your head, casting it aside. Your bra follows as does your pants and panties, and the sound Namjoon makes—a low, guttural moan—sends a flush spreading over your skin. His gaze drinks you in, dark and reverent.

He leans toward your pussy, his intentions clear, but you stop him with a playful chuckle, pushing lightly at his chest. “Please,” you say, your voice husky, “just fuck me already. I’m ready, and I want you so bad.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen, and he lets out a choked, breathless laugh, shedding his boxers in one swift motion. He wraps a hand around his cock, giving himself a few firm strokes to steady himself, and you lie back, spreading your legs in invitation. Your body trembles with anticipation, your need palpable.

“Hm,” you tease, wiggling your hips with a grin. “I’m ready to open my petals wide for you. Come and claim me.”

He laughs, a delighted sound, his hands warm as they grasp your thighs. “Cute,” he says, but his smile is laced with desire as he lines himself up with your entrance. Just as he begins to push into you, a wicked gleam sparks in his eyes. “I’ve got a pun too,” he pants, his voice thick as he stretches you open, inch by inch. 

“I think it’s time to fertilize this relationship.”

You hold your breath, feeling him fill you, your body arching in response to the exquisite pressure. His words finally register as he settles fully inside, and you gasp, a laugh bubbling up through the haze of pleasure. “Wait—did you just say you want to fertilize me?” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows, your voice breathless and amused.

Namjoon groans, his laugh turning into a deep grunt as he moves, your bodies pressed together, the playful intimacy of the moment making everything feel impossibly right. “Maybe I did,” he whispers, his breath hot on your skin, his hips beginning to move in a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

His breath catches in his throat, a strangled groan spilling out, thick with pleasure. “God, you’re so tight, babe,” he murmurs, voice rough, a velvet rasp that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers grip you with a fervent need, and his hips meet yours in a dance of primal rhythm. His lips brush your ear, whispering sin into the dark. “Yes,” he growls, each word laced with yearning, “I want you to take all my cum.”

A heat unfurls within you, wild and untamed, and a fevered cry breaks from your lips, back arching, body yearning for more. “Fuck yes,” you gasp, your voice trembling, a symphony of need and desire, “fill me, stretch me, make me yours.” He pulls back, a tease of agony, before plunging in again, deeper this time, and a wave of sensation washes over you, stealing your breath, making your world fracture into shards of pleasure. Toes curl, your heartbeat roaring in your ears, and you claw at his biceps, desperate to hold onto something solid.

“Please,” you beg, voice cracking with urgency, “Fill me up. I want to feel you everywhere, for you to watch your cum drip from my pussy—” A shudder courses through you, and you add, breathless and trembling, “And then fuck it back inside, and give me more.”

A groan rumbles in his chest, and you feel his body tense, the delicious twitch inside you betraying how your words unravel him. “Fuck,” he gasps, the curse a melody wrapped in desperation, his thrusts becoming brutal and consuming. His eyes darken, a storm threatening to drown you both. “My perfect little cockslut,” he grits out, voice threaded with awe and possession, “always so needy for my big cock.”

You wrap your legs around him, pressing your heels into his lower back, desperate to pull him deeper. His thrusts find that secret spot inside you, and the world around you shatters. Your cries echo in the room, a crescendo of ecstasy. “Joon-ah!” you cry, voice a broken plea, and he responds, hips driving harder, chasing your unraveling.

“My beautiful little slut,” he pants, voice cracked and shattered, “made to take me. Made to come for me.” His rhythm is relentless, and the coil in your belly winds tight, snapping like a bolt of lightning. Pleasure blooms through you, so vivid it turns your vision to a white, a brilliant blur. Breathless, undone, you tremble, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

He catches your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans, and he drives into you, each thrust deeper, leaving you raw and oversensitive. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling, clutching as your body convulses, waves of bliss surging through you. You feel yourself unravel completely, and he moves with you, relentless, sending you spiraling further into the pleasure you never want to escape. 

“So good, my love,” he murmurs, a reverent hymn of praise, and your body responds instantly, your core clenching, a desperate, needy flutter. His eyes darken, desire a tangible force between you. “You ready for me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice a teasing growl, and before you can answer, his strong hands grip your thighs, pulling you open wider, pinning you beneath him as he begins to thrust harder, deeper.

“Yes!” you cry, your voice raw, your need laid bare in that single, breathless scream. His hips snap against yours, each movement carrying a delicious, reckless abandon. One hand drifts between your bodies, and his fingers find your clit, drawing tight, wicked circles that send electricity racing through you. The buildup is sudden, overwhelming—a storm surging through you with a force that steals your breath. You’re undone, surprised by your own body’s eager surrender.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, every nerve alight, toes curling from the rush of pleasure. “I’m going to come again,” you moan, and your head falls back, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat, every inch of you arched, straining, craving.

“That’s it, babe,” he coaxes, voice raw and full of awe as he watches you come undone. His gaze never leaves you, and he drives into you with relentless precision, chasing his own high as he feels you pulse around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he rasps, his voice cracking with the strain, his own pleasure just out of reach. He’s relentless, a man driven by your shared ecstasy.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, and the words unravel you further. Your head tosses back and forth on the sheets, body a trembling, heaving wreck of sensation. His eyes meet yours, a connection sparking between you, and your breath comes in frantic pants. “Namjoon,” you plead, and his mouth softens, the intensity in his eyes tempered by tenderness.

“I know,” he breathes, his voice a soothing whisper, “I’ve got you.” His thrusts quicken, become erratic, and his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in as he hovers at the precipice. “I’m almost there, babe,” he promises, and with a few more deep, punishing thrusts, you feel him shudder, a guttural groan escaping his lips. His release pulses into you, warmth spilling inside as he cries your name, his face twisting in a perfect symphony of pleasure.

You watch him, utterly captivated—his glasses slipping slightly, his jaw slack with bliss—and the sight alone threatens to push you to the brink again. His movements slow, hips stuttering, his body collapsing gently into yours as the high fades. Still trembling, he leans down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s as soft as it is reverent, and you can’t help but giggle, delight spilling over.

He slips out of you, eyes darkening once more as he watches his release trickle from you, and your pussy clench around the emptiness, a final echo of your desire. With a satisfied groan, he flops down beside you, laughter bubbling up between you both. His hand rakes through his tousled hair, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

You turn your head toward him, the world around you spinning with a dizzying, intoxicating mix of something sweet and wild. Your heart pounds in your chest, a cocktail of longing and reckless abandon. You know you have to ask him, and you have to ask now. The words spill from your lips before you can stop them, raw and urgent. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” you breathe out in a rush, like you’ve been holding your breath for far too long. 

His eyes catch yours, a grin spreading across his face like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Of course,” he replies, his voice warm and steady, like he’s known all along. 

You smile back at him, and in that instant, the weight you’ve been carrying seems to lift from your shoulders. Your heart feels lighter, like it’s fluttering in your chest, freed from the gravity of uncertainty. He leans in, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. His voice is soft, but there’s a sincerity to it that makes your heart ache in the best way. “You’ve got me blooming in ways I’ve never felt before.” 

A laugh bursts from your lips, spontaneous and full of joy. “You’re corny,” you tease, the warmth between you igniting the spark of something real, something tender. 

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that makes your pulse race. “Good thing I love you, you nerd,” you add, his eyes gleaming with affection, the kind of love that feels both easy and electric. 

You bite your lip, feeling a rush of warmth crawl up your neck. “Ouch. Just be happy that I love your bitchy and bratty mouth,” he smirks playfully, his hands moving to pull you closer. 

The air shifts as he sits up on the bed, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Speaking of,” he says, voice dropping low with a teasing edge. “Should I clean you off, or give it some time to let my seed settle inside you?” 

Heat rises in your cheeks, the words hanging heavy between you, and you nearly choke on the air. “Please fuck me again, Joonie,” you whisper, the rawness of your need almost too much to take. 

His lips curl into a slow smile as he lowers his mouth to your stomach, kissing you with a reverence that steals your breath away. His lips trail upward, brushing across your breasts, your neck, and finally landing on your mouth in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Then give me a moment,” he murmurs against your lips, “and I’ll be ready to go again.” 

But before you can lose yourself completely in the heat of the moment, your phone vibrates multiple times on the nightstand, the interruption sharp and unwelcome. You glance at the screen, curiosity piquing in your chest, and your stomach sinks when you see the flood of messages. They’re all from Jungkook.

You groan in embarrassment, cringing at the thought of what might be waiting for you in those texts. 

“What is it, babe?” Namjoon asks, his voice laced with concern as he notices the change in your expression. 

“I guess Jungkook was home all along…” you mumble, heat spreading across your face like wildfire. The realization hangs heavy in the air between you, and both of you understand what it means. Namjoon bursts out laughing, the sound full of warmth and affection. He pulls you into his embrace, his lips trailing soft kisses along your neck, inhaling your scent as if he can’t get enough. 

Your laughter bubbles up, the embarrassment melting away in the comfort of his arms, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, lost in your own world of joy and tenderness. 

→ Requested taglist: @callmenoona25 @svnbangtansworld @nora12379 @joonsmagicshop @kamilamb @joonlover1207

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex

→ Author’s endnote: I hope enjoyed this one, and please let me know what you liked; you’re always welcome to leave me a comment, a reblog or an ask 🥰 Thank you so much for reading, love you 💜 © @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (9)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Word count: 3.5k

Chapter Warnings: it's finally the day of the fair, there's tension, bike ride, they're just too cute

A/N: might be one of my most fav chapters that i've written up until now. i personally love the fair scene a lot and omg ahhh jungkook is so cute. we're finally getting close to something. can't wait hehehehe. stay tuned and let me know your thoughts <3

part 9: wheeling through the lavender breeze

D-Day; The day arrives bathed in golden sunshine, the town raging with excitement. It’s the day of the fair, and everyone has poured their hearts into its preparation. By noon, vendors are bustling about, arranging their stalls and testing their games, while colorful streamers flutter in the gentle breeze.

The aroma of freshly baked goods mingles with the faint tang of fried treats, filling the air with a sense of nostalgia and anticipation.

As the clock strikes four, the fair officially begins. Crowds gather, filling the once-quiet town square with laughter, chatter, and the occasional shriek of joy from children trying their luck at the game stands. Everything has fallen into place, every detail, every decoration, every event like pieces of a perfect puzzle.

You and your friends are a bundle of energy as you dive headfirst into the fair's festivities. Namjoon, ever the intellectual, lingers at the trivia booth, determined to win a stuffed panda for Juwon, who laughs at his serious expressions. “Joonie, it’s just a plush toy, not a Nobel Prize." she teases, earning a playful glare from him.

Meanwhile, Seokjin and Taehyung are at the dart stand, where Jin, with his trademark overconfidence, declares he’ll hit the bullseye. “Watch and learn, peasants.” he smirks, only for the dart to land embarrassingly off-target. Taehyung howls with laughter, clutching his stomach. “Hyung you're a true champion!” he snorts.

Sunjae drags you towards the ring toss game, and as you toss rings together, he nudges you playfully. “Bet you can’t beat me.” he says. You smirk, your competitive streak kicking in.

By the end of it, you’re both laughing uncontrollably, arms weighed down with the silly prizes you’ve just won, ranging from keychains to plastic crowns and a plush cat that you can’t resist keeping for yourself.

The group jumps from stall to stall, savoring churros dipped in chocolate and slurping down colorful shaved ice. It’s a day of simple joy and happiness, only made brighter by the presence of your closest friends.

On the other side of the fair, Jungkook wanders with his group of friends. Yoongi strolls at an unhurried pace, a relaxed smile gracing his face. His hands rest comfortably in his pockets as he takes in the vibrant atmosphere, a quiet sense of pride swelling within him for the part he played in bringing this fair into life.

Hoseok, in contrast, is a ball of energy, dragging Jungkook to a basketball hoop game. “Come on, man, show them what you’ve got!!!” he cheers as Jungkook effortlessly lands shot after shot, earning himself a stuffed bunny prize that Hoseok is quick to keep for himself.

Jimin, ever the charmer, flirts his way to extra turns at the candy claw machine, much to the amusement of the group. “Watch and learn, Jungkook.” Jimin quips as he retrieves yet another lollipop.

Despite the company of his friends, Jungkook’s thoughts keep drifting back to you. His sharp eyes scan the crowd, catching glimpses of your laughter, your playful antics, and the way the sunlight dances across your features. You’re radiant, your joy infectious, and it tugs at something deep inside him.

Last night’s moment in the storeroom replays in his mind like a never ending loop... the way your breath hitched, the warmth of your skin under his fingertips, the soft whisper of his name. He had been so close, so achingly close to pulling you in and just kissing you. The memory burns, and he clenches his jaw, frustrated by the distance now separating you.

His gaze finds you again, this time at a food stall. You’re sipping lemonade, your lips quirking up into a grin as Sunjae says something to make you laugh. Jungkook’s chest tightens. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but seeing you like this... happy, glowing, and so effortlessly beautiful makes him fall harder, faster, deeper.

He knows he should focus on the fair, on his friends, but every fiber of his being wants to be near you. To hear your laugh up close, to feel your touch again. But not yet. Tonight, he tells himself. It has to wait until tonight.

//

As the clock nears six, the fair transforms into something out of a storybook. Fairy lights strung along the trees flicker to life, casting a soft golden glow. Lanterns sway gently in the breeze, their warm hues giving the town square a magical charm.

The sound of children’s laughter is joined by the distant strumming of guitars, signaling the start of the evening performances.

You pause for a moment, your gaze sweeping across the vibrant decorations that adorns the fairgrounds. The floral arrangements, each carefully placed, now seem to glow under the warm lights, accentuating their colors and adding a touch of elegance to the scene.

You feel a wave of pride as you take it all in, your chest swelling at the realization of what you and the rest of the volunteers have accomplished.

Just days ago, this fair felt like a daunting task, a nightmare of to-do lists, late nights, and endless arrangements. Now, it’s a masterpiece. The flowers you chose, the garlands you hung, the small details you agonized over... it’s all come together, creating a space that feels alive and enchanting.

“Wow.” you whisper to yourself, unable to suppress the smile spreading across your face. It’s a moment of quiet triumph, shared silently with the fair itself, as if it’s rewarding your hard work with its newfound beauty.

Eventually, the performances start. The first act is a children’s dance group, choreographed by none other than Juwon. She stands at the edge of the stage, practically vibrating with pride as the kids twirl and hop in sync. “Look at them go!” she gushes, clapping enthusiastically.

Taehyung grins, leaning over to Namjoon. “Juwon’s going to be the next big choreographer. Mark my words.”

“Already calling it.” Seokjin agrees, stealing popcorn from your bag. “Hey!” you protest, slapping his hand away. Finally, the children finish their routine to a roaring applause. Juwon beams, her eyes shining with happiness as the kids take their bows.

//

The night deepens, and the concert begins. The stage is bathed in soft, ethereal light as a local band plays slow, romantic tunes. The crowd sways gently, hands raised, their movements in sync with the music. It’s a moment of collective peace, an almost perfect ending to a bustling day.

Amid the sea of people, your eyes meet Jungkook’s again. He stands at the edge of the crowd, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his expression unreadable. But his eyes... those pretty eyes... they’re locked on you, burning with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

Your heart races as you try to focus on the music, but your thoughts betray you. Last night’s moment in the storeroom, the lingering looks throughout the day, the way your body aches to be near him... it all bubbles to the surface.

Do you feel something for him? Of course, you do. But is it fleeting, or is it something deeper? As the music swells, so does the turmoil in your heart. Your gaze flickers back to him, and for a moment, everything else fades... the crowd, the music, the fair. It’s just you and him, two souls pulled together by an invisible string.

But tonight isn’t over yet. You push the thoughts aside, silently promising yourself you’ll confront them soon. For now, you let the music guide you, your heart beating in time with the melody and, perhaps, with his.

As the concert ends and applause fills the air, an announcement crackles through the speakers, inviting everyone to the open field just beyond the fairgrounds for the final event of the night: stargazing. The crowd buzzes with excitement, parents tugging their children along, couples holding hands, and friends chattering eagerly as they make their way towards the dimly lit path leading to the field.

The field stretches wide and open, a canvas of lush grass under a sky that seems impossibly vast. The lights from the fair are distant now, leaving the stars to claim their throne.

Tiny specks of light twinkle against the inky blackness, brighter and more abundant than you’ve ever seen. Someone has laid out blankets in a semi-circle for people to sit or lie on, while lanterns placed on the periphery cast a soft, warm glow that doesn’t disturb the night sky.

You settle onto one of the blankets with your friends, the chatter among you gradually softening as the beauty of the scene washes over everyone. Taehyung stretches out, resting his hands behind his head. “I could just live here forever.” he murmurs, his voice tinged with awe.

“Yeah, but where’s the Wi-Fi???” Seokjin quips, breaking the reverent silence. Laughter ripples through your group, light and easy, before quieting again as you all gaze upward.

Not far from you, Jungkook sits on the grass with his friends. Yoongi, as usual, seems perfectly content to enjoy the moment in silence, while Hoseok chatters about the stars and how he used to imagine himself as an astronaut. Jimin teases him endlessly, saying, “Yeah, Hobi, you’d make a great astronaut, especially with your fear of heights.”

Jungkook chuckles at their antics, but his focus is elsewhere. His dark eyes keep drifting back to you. You’re lying on the blanket, your head tilted towards+ the heavens, your profile illuminated by the faint glow of the lanterns.

His heart feels heavy and light all at once. He watches the way your lips part slightly in awe, the way your fingers absentmindedly brush a strand of hair from your face, the way the stars seem to reflect in your eyes. It’s as if the universe has conspired to make this moment just for you, and he’s lucky enough to witness it.

He thinks about the storeroom incident again... the way your lips felt against his cheek, the way your voice trembled slightly when you told him to wait five minutes. He remembers the panic in your eyes, followed by that fleeting kiss, and something inside him stirs. Last night was the beginning of something, he’s sure of it.

And yet, he knows this isn’t the moment to bridge the distance. He has to wait, as much as it pains him. But the night feels infinite, and in its quiet magic, he allows himself to hope.

As the stargazing continues, some of the organizers hand out tiny glass jars with glowing fairy lights inside, a gift for everyone to take home. Children gasp and squeal in delight, running around the field with their jars, pretending to catch fireflies. You can’t help but smile at their joy, hugging your own jar close as the warmth of the moment fills your chest.

//

Eventually, the night of the fair slowly winds down, the music softens, and the once-bustling crowd begins to thin. The fairy lights still twinkle above, casting a dreamy glow over the remnants of the evening's magic. You find yourself walking back towards your shop, the sounds of the fair fading into the background.

Stepping inside, you make your way to the counter, rifling through your bag to ensure you’ve gathered all your belongings. You spot the plastic crown you won earlier in one of the fair games, its shiny surface catching the light, and try to fit it neatly into your bag. A quiet knock on the glass door pulls you from your task.

Startled, you glance up and freeze. It’s Jungkook. He stands still just outside, his hands in his pockets, a gentle smile playing on his lips. His eyes meet yours, full of warmth and a hint of something unspoken, and instantly, your cheeks burn, your heart skipping a beat.

You fold almost immediately, unable to suppress the shy grin that spreads across your face. Slowly, you move towards the door, your gaze locked with his, as if tethered by some invisible force. When you open it, the barrier between you disappears, leaving the two of you face-to-face under the quiet night sky.

“Jungkook…” you greet softly. The weight of unspoken words lingers in the air, but you push it aside for now. All that matters is the present moment, standing here with him. “Long night, huh?” he says casually, his voice light, though his eyes hold a depth you can’t quite decipher. He's still in the same spot, his feet glued to the entrance outside your shop.

“Yeah… the fair. It’s finally over.” you breathe out, glancing behind him, over his shoulders towards the quieting square. “It was... magical.” you add, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

When you look back at him, you notice the way he’s staring at you, the hint of a smirk curling one corner of his lips. “The fair is over… but the night...” his voice trails as he continues. “the night is still young.”

You tilt your head in confusion, but curiosity flickers in your chest. He reaches out his hand, palm up, the silent invitation clear. “Come with me?” he asks, his voice gentle but firm, his eyes glimmering with a playful tease. A laugh escapes you but you still find yourself placing your hand in his. “Come with you? Where?”

“You’ll see...” he replies simply, his smirk deepening into a full smile, the kind that sends your heart fluttering.

With no hesitation, you trust him. After switching off the lights in your store and locking the door, you follow him into the night, your hand still securely in his. The fair may be over, but something tells you the night’s magic is far from done.

Jungkook leads you to his bike, parked right outside his shop. Two helmets rest on the seat, a small detail that sparks both curiosity and excitement. Gently, he lets go of your hand, picking up one of the helmets and holding it out to you.

“Wear this.” he says simply, his tone soft but firm.

You take it from his hands, your fingers brushing against his for a fleeting moment. Despite holding the helmet, you remain rooted to the spot, your gaze fixed on him as he fixes the helmet over his head, still trying to process what was happening.

He notices your hesitation and chuckles lightly. “Come on, just trust me." he says, stepping closer. Before you can react, he takes the helmet from your hands and carefully places it over your head.

His hands work with a gentle precision as he adjusts the fit, his fingers brushing your jawline while he clips the buckle below your chin. The proximity makes your heart race, and you try to steady your breath as he steps back, admiring hoe adorable you look.

“We’re taking your bike?” you question the obvious, the confusion and curiosity evident in your voice. He nods, his lips curving into an almost teasing smile as he swings his leg over the bike, taking a seat.

“Mhm.” he hums, settling in and gripping the handlebars with ease. Turning his head slightly, he flashes you a cheeky grin. “Hop on. We’re going for a ride.”

For a moment, you hesitate, glancing between him and the bike. But the glimmer in his eyes and the excitement in his voice are contagious. You know you’re about to step into the unknown, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to say no. With a deep breath, you take a step forward, ready to join him on this spontaneous adventure.

You’re wearing a long, sleeveless flowy summer dress, its fabric brushing gently against your legs, paired with a loose-knit sweater that drapes carelessly over one of your shoulders. The thin strap of your dress peeks out from under the sweater, the slight exposure making you self-conscious for a fleeting moment. You adjust it nervously as you prepare to climb onto Jungkook's bike.

Sitting behind him isn’t easy, especially in a dress, but you manage to settle yourself carefully, your knees tucked close and your hands unsure of where to rest. The bike rumbles softly beneath you, and you feel the cool evening breeze starting to sweep through your hair.

“Hold onto me.” Jungkook says, his voice calm yet firm, as he looks back over his shoulder.

You tentatively reach out, your fingers grazing his sides before resting lightly on his torso. The hesitation in your touch makes Jungkook chuckle softly, the sound low and warm. “Come on.” he teases, his grin audible in his voice. “You’re not gonna fall off, but you might if you’re this shy about it.”

Before you can respond, he reaches back, his strong hand wrapping around your wrist as he pulls your arm forward. The sudden motion causes you to gasp softly, and you find yourself pressed against his back, your arms now circling his torso completely.

“You gotta hold on tight.” he says, his voice softer now but laced with amusement. The warmth of his body seeps through his leather jacket and your sweater, and you can’t help but feel the strength and steadiness beneath your palms, through the thin material of his t-shirt that peaks between the zipper of his jacket.

Your cheeks burn, but you comply, gripping him a little firmer. Jungkook revs the bike, the vibrations sending a thrill through you as the realization hits... this moment, this closeness, it’s real.

“Better.” he murmurs, as if reassuring you both. Then, with a slight tilt of his head and a quick glance back, he says, “Ready?”

You nod, even though he can’t see it, your heart pounding against your ribcage. With a flick of his wrist, the bike roars to life, and the world around you blurs as the two of you take off into the night.

The ride is sensational. Jungkook zooms past the dimly lit streets, the glowing storefronts and scattered streetlights blending into streaks of color. The rumble of the engine vibrates through your whole body, and the cool night air brushes past your skin with a ferocity that sends your adrenaline skyrocketing.

You clutch onto Jungkook tighter as the wind whips through your hair, the speed thrilling and a little terrifying at the same time. Yet, instead of fear, an exhilarating sense of freedom takes over. It’s as if the world around you has melted away, leaving only the pulse of the bike beneath you, the blur of the road ahead, and the warmth of Jungkook’s body against yours.

When he speeds up, you can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes your lips, the sheer rush making you feel alive in a way you’ve never experienced before. You tilt your head back slightly, letting the breeze carry your laughter as if it could echo through the night.

The road soon opens up onto an empty bridge, the lights from the railing casting faint glimmers onto the endless stretch of the road. With no other vehicles in sight, it feels like the entire world belongs to the two of you. The vast sky above, dotted with stars, mirrors the open road below.

“Having fun?” Jungkook’s voice cuts through the wind, deep and playful, somehow carrying over the roaring engine and rushing air. You don’t answer right away. Instead, a grin breaks across your face, and without thinking, you throw your head back and scream. “Wooooooo!”

Your joyous cry echoes through the empty bridge, wild and untamed. Jungkook glances back for a second, his laugh joining yours, a genuine sound of delight and appreciation. He loves this moment... your carefree energy, your laughter, the way you’re soaking it all in.

“You’re something else.” he mutters to himself, the words swallowed by the wind, though the warmth in his tone lingers. Time seems to stretch and blur, the ride feeling both endless and fleeting. The stars above seem brighter now, the night unfolding into something magical as Jungkook continues to glide across the open road.

But just as you think the ride might never end, the bike begins to slow down. The engine’s roar softens to a hum, and the rush of the wind eases, letting the sounds of the night seep back in... the gentle chirp of crickets and the faint crashing of waves.

You look up, your surroundings coming into sharper focus. On the right, the vast expanse of the ocean unfolds before you, the moonlight dancing on its surface. Your breath catches as you realize where he’s brought you. The beach.

Jungkook pulls over to the side of the road, cutting the engine. The sudden quiet feels almost deafening, except for the rhythmic lull of the waves crashing against the shore.

“Surprise.” he says softly, glancing back at you with a small smile. His helmet’s visor is up, and you can see the glimmer in his eyes.

For a moment, you’re speechless as you still hold onto him, the beauty of the scene stealing your words. The vast ocean stretches endlessly before you, and the night feels alive with some kind of possibility.

<- part 8 // part 10 ->

series masterlist

taglist:@kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape @rpwprpwprpwprw @tokkiggukie @jaytheatiny

[smoothlikealikeasnake]

Strawberry Princess Christmas Special

Genre - OT7!BTS x Reader, Hybrid!BTS x Hybrid!Reader

Pairing - Hybrid!Au , Hybrid BTS x Hybrid Reader, fluff, angst, eventual smut, slow burn? , alternative reality , strangers to lovers , strangers to friends, friends to lovers

Warnings - Absolute fluffiest fluff. Tooth-rottingly sweet fluff.

Summary - The Strawberry Princess Universe meets Christmas and is filled with fluff and joy, all around ❤️

Christmas is a big deal in the Bangtan House. It’s a special time of year for many but it is anticipated for months by the pack.

December 1st, Y/n let herself into the packs home and was greeted with calculated chaos. People were running by her in a flash, trailed by decorations of all kinds and amidst the loud Christmas music was shouted commands and questions. Y/n kept her hand on the door fully debating wether she should slowly leave and come back but the scent of fresh gingerbread and hot cocoa tied in with the warm happiness in all of the packs scents just drew her in so she walked in.

Spinning around as she took in the half decorated festive wonderland around her, each of the boys zipped past her at some point and greeted her with a quick kiss on her face or head, besides Jimin, always the charmer who stopped mid run to pick up her hand and give her a prince-like welcoming.

Not everyone was running around though, Namjoon and Yoongi were sat on the couch and Y/n was swiftly pulled into Namjoons lap whilst Yoongi gave her a quick thigh squeeze and rubbed her back in greeting before getting back to his task which was untangling the lights. It seemed everyone was working, besides Namjoon so after he adjusted Y/n to sit comfortably and slipped one hand in her hair and the other on her waist, rubbing soft circles there, Y/n gave him a confused look.

“You aren’t busy right now?” - It was more of a question because Y/n had now occupied his lap and his hands so there isn’t much he could really do but he just gave Y/n a sheepish but equally dazzling smile, a light blush covering his cheeks while he replied.

“Well- I just lift anything heavy, I tend to break anything more delicate” - Y/n just looked at Namjoon with parted lips in slight shock as Namjoon avoided her eyes before reciprocating Y/n’s expression when she grabbed his huge bicep, hand only covering one half of it, giving it a squeeze with a coo, only staring for a moment too long at how firm it was before beaming at him.

“Awww, our strong Joonie, it’s okay im sure you don’t break everything delicate really” - Namjoon found his blush deepening as he held onto ‘our Joonie’ and nervously laughed before Yoongi spoke for the first time in a while and had them both speechless.

“Yeah, your right, our Joonie won’t break our delicate little Y/n” - Yoongi said it so nonchalantly that both Namjoon and Y/n were struck with heavy blushes and stuttering words that made the panther very proud, sittih smugly as he continued his untangling task.

“Anyway- Jin will be calling everyone for a break in a few minutes, he’s baked cookies” - Namjoon cleared his throat and completely skipped over Yoongis words, glad because right on queue Jin ushered everyone to stop their tasks for a break and the youngest clumsily piled in with a crash and stood around the kitchen island digging in while everyone else moved at a calmer pace.

Namjoon stood up and quite literally carried Y/n over even as she yelped when he walked with her in his arm like nothing. As soon as she was sat down, Hobi handed her a warm gingerbread cookie shaped as a Christmas tree and Y/n took it with a thank you and a hum of appreciation.

“What can I do to help” - Y/n asked after swallowing her mouthful of cookie, eager to do something

“Nothing, beautiful, you just sit with Namjoon hm?” - Jin leant over and ruffled her hair but instead of her just agreeing she slightly pouted with a furrow of her eyebrows

“No i want to help, he’s already done his job” - Y/n was firm, not willing to just sit around whilst everyone else was actually running, sprinting around in absolute chaos

“You can help us decorate the tree in a little while, right?” - Taehyung came up with the suggestion, wanting her input on where to put each ornament and maybe help her put them up. Y/n looked around for confirmation knowing tree decorating can be a personal tradition but she was instantly waved off by Hoseok

“Of course you can” - Hobi slipped his hand into her scalp to gently rub at it and push away any of her doubts that seemed to grow, lulling her into a relaxed slump

“But what about now?” - She looked up still determined to do something, to be helpful

“Well I suppose you could arrange the pillows and blankets on the couches?” - Somehow Jin knew that would make her happy and he was proud as Y/n’s eyes lit up, tail flicking behind her and a soft purr began to come from her chest, practically shouting out her response.

“Yes!”

Everyone briefed Y/n on what they were doing decoration-wise and found out they all had the same tasks every year, it was routine for them and Y/n found herself just sitting with stars in her eyes at their passion and love for eachother that showed in the care they put into this time of year and all of its tradition.

“What are your plans for Christmas, princess?” - Y/n’s thoughts were cut off by Jungkook turning to her questioningly and Y/n blanked for a moment before answering

“My mom is going away this Christmas so I’ll see her a few days before and we will celebrate then” - While Y/n didn’t seem to mind, everyone else had a light frown on their faces, not wanting her to be alone especially in the holidays it just wasn’t right and if she was going to be alone, they just wouldn’t have that.

“But what about Christmas Day?” - Jimin leant in and asked, watching her every move for even the slightest bit of sadness in her eyes, ready to pick her up and cuddle it all away

“I’ll cozy up with my favourite Christmas movies and-“ - Y/n thought they were just intrigued and while she would of loved to spend Christmas Day with her mom, it just wasn’t possible this year so Christmas will have to come early and that was okay for Y/n, aslong as she didn’t think about it too much. She was cut off, rather abruptly by Yoongi with his firm, low toned voice

“You won’t spend it alone, come here for Christmas” - Maybe if someone else had said it, it might seem like pity but somehow, coming from Yoongi, Y/n knew it wasn’t but despite that she just opened and closed her mouth like a fish, not quite knowing how to respond

“Yeah! Come here! Our parents come over and you could meet them and we will have a nice dinner and watch a movie and-“ - Jungkook was practically jumping on the spot at the idea, eyes wide and pretty much about to leap in and swing Y/n around in excitement, even before she responded.

“Slow down Kook, only if you want too doll but we would love to have you here” - Namjoon gently scolded Jungkook and put a hand on his thigh to calm him down, rubbing softly and it worked mostly as Kook instantly relaxed and leant in to his touch while Namjoon’s kind and gentle gaze stayed on Y/n with his breathtaking smile

“Well I couldn’t intrude on your family time-“ - Y/n began to shift uneasily, the idea was so good it sounded so nice but she couldn’t shift the feeling that she’d be a burden or intruding, that’s why she was interrupted quickly by Hoseok

“Don’t be silly, pretty, we would love to have you here and so would our parents” - Hoseok was now the one scolding, rubbing his hand down her spine to make sure she took in all his words and attention and saw her ears flittering around from her internal battle

“But it’s Christmas” - Y/n spoke quietly, almost a whisper and sounded oh so unsure that 7 pairs of arms were nearly around her in an instant to wrap her in comfort and reassurance

“Exactly! It’s Christmas so it’s the best time of year to have you over” - Jin sounded both enthusiastic and firm, leaning on his elbows on the kitchen island to make eye contact with Y/n and he watched her bite her lip for a moment in contemplation before nodding and he swore he could feel the room get warmer and happier from his mates reactions to her acceptance

“If your sure, I’d love that”

———————————————————————————

The next few hours were filled with the same chaos Y/n had walked into with brief conversations here and there about what the boys’ parents were like. Y/n was oh so anxious to meet them but was mentally planning exactly how she would meet each and everyone one of them to make the best first impression. Spoiler alert, it didn’t go exactly to plan but all turned out well!

Y/n put her heart and soul into arranging all the blankets and pillows to perfection, kneading each one to make it fluffy and bouncy and smoothing out any creases, pulling Namjoon around to give his opinions on each placement and pushing him down to test the softness and bounciness of each pillow and blanket even though she had to fluff them back up each and everytime, just repeating until he wrapped her up in his arms and praised her on how lovely it all was and how perfect of a job she had done, that made her melt and finally finish up, refusing to even touch her work before the rest of the boys had approved it and urging both Namjoon and herself to sit on the fluffy rug on the floor instead to which he obliged, putting her in his lap for the remainder of their sitting around time.

Watching the decorations go up was like watching real magic happen, every inch of the home was decorated and Y/n watched with her heart filling with happiness as every second went by. She was melted into Namjoon’s larger body, purring away and refusing to close her eyes despite how sleepy she seemed, even as Joon gently played with her hair and she didn’t move for even a second as he accidentally snagged a few knots and then apologised and kissed her head. It was all just so magical.

And when she thought it couldn’t get any better, how could it possibly? Decorating the tree. Boxes and boxes of decorations were pulled out, the tree was so tall it was nearly double Y/n’s height and while Yoongi handled spinning lights around it, the ornaments and additional decorations was everyone’s job. They worked from the bottom up, picking out every bauble and bow and pieces of tinsel they wanted to put up and where, the boys looking at Y/n for her approval everytime even though it was their tree, making it hers too.

The bottom half of the tree was easiest to do, 8 pairs of hands putting in their favourite decorations and wherever seemed right until it was full and glimmering and so so magical, then came the second half. It was easy enough for the boys, the shorter mates having to just go on their tippy toes for a moment to reach near the top and Y/n assumed her part was done, helping where she could and trying to be ever so careful with each piece, face concentrated as she stood at the highest point of her tippy toes to reach wherever was possible, unaware of the sets of hands that would hover her waist just incase she looked wobbly.

Just when she put one more bauble up and felt herself nearly fall forward, catching herself quickly and ignoring the skim of hands settling on her to steady her as she briefly panicked, she decided that was as much as she could help. The boys had different ideas because just as she stepped back, she yelped and gasped in surprise at Jungkook grabbing her by the thighs, leaning down and hoisting her up onto his shoulders while her thighs quickly tightened around his neck and her calves criss-crossed in instinct to not fall. Kook never would of let her fall of course, he held a tight grip on her while she got stable and only giggled when she leant forward, resting her chest over his head and gripping his hair for a moment as she still sat in pure shock.

“Jungkook! What are you doing!” - The rest of the boys laughed at her attempt to make him get down as she lightly pulled at his fluffy hair and looked around with wide eyes only to find the rest of the boys just smiling at her and continuing with their decorating.

“Now you can get the higher bits, I’ve got you just relax a little” - Y/n pouted stubbornly even if he couldn’t see it but followed through, slightly relaxing her plush thighs as they still were wrapped around his neck but were held in place by his hands and leant up straighter so she didn’t set him off balance. When she relaxed a bit more, Jungkook let one hand go and reached for a decoration, handing it up to her and telling her to guide him wherever so she could put it. And she did just that.

Each of the boys handed her decorations, some with suggestions of where to put it and some leaving her to make that decision all while she gently tugged at Jungkook’s hair to order him left and right. By the time the tree was nearly finished, besides one last detail, it was full and so so beautiful, so full of memories and love and Jungkook’s hair was messy but his smile was full, eyes nearly closed with how wide it was. When they were finished, he gently knelt down so she could hop off his shoulders, with two different people’s hands on her own helping her make the small leap and when she stepped back, she stood in awe at the beautiful tree before them.

A hand gently rested on her shoulder to take her out of her trance and a voice whispered into her ear.

“Help us do the star, doll?” - Y/n turned around to find Namjoon leaning his hand out to her with a beautiful, glimmering star in his hand ready to go on the very top of the tree and right as she was about to protest because the star is arguably the most important part of the tree and placing it is so often the most special part of decorating the tree, she looked around and found 6 encouraging, happy smiles urging her to do just that. She looked up and wondered just how she was going to reach because she was just about reaching the top decorations on Jungkook’s shoulders but this was even higher and right as she bit her lip and nodded, Namjoon solved that issue.

Being the tallest and easily the strongest in the pack, it was easy for him to wrap one arm around Y/n’s thighs, his other hand just under her breasts and to lift her up until she was high enough, her feet level with his firm stomach all while keeping her steady and straight up, tall enough to reach the very tip of the tree where Y/n carefully placed the star before she was gently lifted down again and set on the ground.

Right on cue, as everyone stepped back to look at the tree, Yoongi flicked on the lights and it was like you could hear the twinkling off all of the decoration and lights, the most enchanting sight Y/n had ever seen as she lightly gasped in admiration and stared with a smile as another set of arms wrapped around her waist and Jimins scent invaded her nose, holding her in close and warm.

“See? Christmas is So much better together”

———————————————————————————

Christmas rolled around with hot cocoa and warm movies, wrapped up in blankets and as Y/n got back from her mom’s on the 23rd, she was only at home for a few hours before she was whisked away to the packs home where she was told their parents would be coming Christmas Eve afternoon, logically giving her plenty of time to prepare.

She went to sleep that night inbetween Taehyung and Jimin who wore matching Christmas pajamas with her, one of the three sets Jin had gone out and chosen for all of the pack to wear for the next three days, one for the 23rd, one for the 24th and one for Christmas morning and evening.

Y/n stumbled out from between Jimin and Taehyung before they woke up because she fell asleep hours before they had, wobbling down the hallway with her eyes still half closed and mind definitely not processing the 7 new scents in the home, she just followed after the closest familiar one and wrapped herself in Hoseoks embrace while he chuckled and ran a hand through her messy hair. She didn’t even hear the coos and comments about their cute interaction.

“Your up early honey, where and Tae and Minnie?” - Hoseok asked while he held her close reciprocating her affectionate pawing.

“They’re ’sleep, went to bed late” - Hoseok hummed in response and plucked the hairband he always keeps on his wrist now to gently gather her messy curls and tie them into a simple ponytail before looking up to the 7 guests with a smile and then looking down again.

“You want to say hi?” - He gently coaxed Y/n out of her sleepy hold and she looked up at him confused before the new scents processed in her brain and her eyes widened faster than he had ever seen before, watching her spin on her heel and take in the 7 pack mates mother’s sitting around the kitchen island taking in their cute interaction and Y/n’s words felt choked up and like they were spewing out all at the same time, stuttering for a few moments before straightening out her pajamas and standing up straight, easily identifiying who each of the women’s son’s were.

“I-im so sorry- it’s so nice to meet you all- um-“ - She only struggled for a few moments before she was wrapped up in a tight hug by one of the women, followed by another and then another, one by one.

“Don’t be sorry darling that’s alright we came early” - Taehyung’s eomma spoke soothingly

“We have heard so much about you!” - Jimin’s eomma, bubbly and sweet smiled at her with that same eye-closing smile Jimin

“Wah- Hoseok none of your words put fully into perspective just how beautiful she is!” - Hoseok’s eomma jokingly scolded her son and lightly hit him on his arm as he tried to protest her words

“Alright stop crowding her ladies, give her a moment she’s just woke up the poor thing” - Namjoon’s eomma , just like her son, was the reason of the group and urged the women to stand back and as they did, Y/n let out a shaky, uncertain breath.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you Y/n, im Jisoo, Jin’s mother but you just call me Eomma okay?” - Y/n stuttered over her words as she reciprocated her introduction and smiled at the calm woman.

“I’m Jungkook’s mother but you just call me eomma too” - A soft spoken, shyer seeming woman spoke next and Y/n was caught over her words still in shock still

“Infact just call all of us eomma, darling, the boys do” - Yoongi’s mother spoke next, seeing the recognition in Y/n’s eyes and knowing introductions weren’t exactly in need when she knew exactly who was who and that it would all end with the same phrase ‘just call me eomma’ and Y/n couldn’t stop the thankful smile she sent her way, feeling herself let out another breath as despite the vast differences in energy levels between the women, they were all very similar to the boys she knew and were so very kind and welcoming.

I mean, she’d been greeted in a warm hug by three of them even before she got out a full sentence, the others were more sparing with their touches but equally as warm as Namjoon’s eomma guided her over to the table to sit with them by a hand gently on her back and Jin’s mom kindly squeezing her hand for a moment in greeting once she was sat.

They quickly made her feel comfortable and welcomed, Y/n tail falling into a soft sway and her ears relaxing which made Hoseok, who was watching from the side, smile into his cup of coffee. Yoongi’s mom had poured her a herbal tea with a quiet statement insisting she kept warm and healthy in the cold winter, Jimin’s mom had piled on fresh porridge she had brought over with a similar statement, Jin’s mom quickly filling a small selection of side dishes for her meal for her, Taehyungs mother, sat at her side kept pulling her into tight side hugs throughout their chat, Namjoon’s mother having the same keen interest in her every word, Jungkook’s mother grabbing her hands to make sure they were warm enough and Hoseok bragging about how lucky their boys were to have such a sweet, beautiful girl at their side.

Y/n quickly fell into a comfortable conversation discussing everything and nothing with them, laughing and joking as they all recalled silly stories of the boys and the mothers asking Y/n questions about herself. They had approved of her the moment she walked into the room and Hoseok seemed to light up, happily holding her close and since then they had only become more fond.

“Our husbands won’t be here until the afternoon, they are out around Seoul having their annual big catchup, you know, men” - Hoseok’s eomma jokingly rolled her eyes at her own statement and it had Y/n in a fit of giggles as the rest of the women just kept adding to the statement.

They sat around chatting and eating for nearly an hour before two more sleepy boys stumbled into the room, originally smelling that Y/n was awake and heading towards her giving her sleepy pecks to her head before waking up completely and bounding over to their mothers to give them tight hugs, both of them jokingly scolded the two for not even noticing their presence but everyone could tell they had no malicious intent behind the words and found their instincts to seek out the young woman just so adorable. Sweet Young love, they all thought.

Jin and Namjoon were the two who came in, Jin immediately doing his rounds to greet each of the mothers and refill everyone’s tea while Namjoon, who tripped on his way in, had been lightly scolded by his mother for still being so clumsy before he also went around giving his greetings and sat down knowing he’d definitely get into more clumsy trouble if he did much else.

Seeing Y/n so comfortable with their mothers had each of the boys’ hearts filled with Christmas joy and happiness, smiling widely despite only just waking up, practically bouncing on their feet with every step and that was the same for each of the rest of the pack joining them. One by one they joined in the kitchen, Yoongi next and then the maknaes in age order starting with Jimin. While all the ladies sat around the kitchen island, the boys found purchase against the counters waiting until everyone was present until they moved to the living room.

“Who did the blankets this year? The choices are just perfect” - Taehyung’s mother gushed, always a fan of texture and stylish choices going hand in hand, happily taking in the arrangements.

“Y/n did them, Eomma” - Jimin practically purred out, giving Y/n a back hug that made her shy and try to worm her way out not wanting to be too affectionate infront of the group of mothers but they all cooed and gave their compliments, having her cheeks to bright red and she practically hid trying to sit on the corner of a sofa before her arm was gently pulled to the side by Jungkook’s mother who insisted the middle was comfier and to make the boys sit on the edges.

The first thing they did was put on a Christmas movie for everyone to watch before the boys and Y/n headed off to get ready for the day, wrapping up warm despite only really having plans to stay in.

Y/n had finished up and it was nearing mid-day, walking into the kitchen all of the mothers were doing their own tasks to prepare lunch, not noticing her presence at first until she spotted Jimin’s mother closest and went to ask if there was anything she could do to help but she caught herself from calling out her name, remembering their earlier words and instead quietly mumbling.

“Eomma?” - All 7 pairs of eyes shot to her, dropping what they were doing to tend whatever she needed and Y/n hadn’t expected it, speaking so quietly and stood there blankly for a moment, just blinking as a flurry of questions on what she needed and if she was okay came from the 7 mothers but Y/n just responded after a few moments

“I just wanted to know if you needed any help” - And instantly again, all 7 mothers were responding and waving her off, telling her to just sit that they would be finished in a few moments. The amount of love and kindness swirling through the home was overwhelming but in the special way that is not too overwhelming since it was Christmas.

———————————————————————————

Meeting the boys fathers was somewhat easier for Y/n since she had expected it this time, they were just a kind, a bit more reserved but just as kind and welcoming, joining mid-afternoon before they all had a warm, hearty dinner and settled down for stories and movies in the living room again, Y/n definitely not on the edge of the sofas this time, that being reserved for the fathers because in the mothers eyes for this it went

Y/n

Themselves

The boys

Their fathers

They had their comments about that, going back to the ones they started in the morning in the kitchen and Y/n found herself suppressing her giggles all over again, all cozy and warm with a mug of hot cocoa that Jin’s eomma had prepared for her, holding back sleep when it reached the evening time until all the parents announced they would be going to sleep and going off to each of the boy’s rooms to sleep. The pack had asked if Y/n be okay sleeping in the packs nesting room with all of them before she came and of course she was, already sleepy she practically dozed off when Taehyung easily eased her up and into his arms, taking her to the warm fuzzy room where they all got ready for bed.

Y/n changed quickly before she was pushed and pulled into the centre of the nest, surrounded by all of the pack, warm and soft with a full belly and fresh Christmas pajamas, nodding off ready for an amazing Christmas Day. It was heavenly, being between all of them at once, euphoric and Y/n felt like she was on a different planet, purring so loudly it vibrated all of their bodies and instinctively caused them all to reciprocate their own versions of the sounds, their own kind of white noise.

———————————————————————————

On Christmas Day they were greeted with snow, a true, movie-like Christmas with a fresh, comforting breakfast, a mountain of presents to be exchanged and love bounding through the air in every which direction. The day was magical. Truly.

“Aren’t they just perfect for eachother” - Jimin’s eomma commented as all of the parents stood back watching the pack giggle and hug and just interact with eachother, in their own little world.

“They truly are” - Jungkook’s father commented back

“The perfect Young Destined Love”

———————————————————————————

Thank you so much for reading I really hope you enjoyed! This is the Christmas special and im sorry if it seems a bit short towards the end I hope it doesn’t seem like it’s missing anything but it’s just pure fluff and a big milestone in the Strawberry Princess universe too!

Please let me know what you think! I love to hear you guys’ comments and what parts you enjoyed ❤️

As always my asks are open for drabbles, character asks, ect xx

Have a Very Merry Christmas! 🎄

Mwah ❤️

ཐི♡ཋྀ

———————————————————————————

Taglist (still open loves just drop me a comment if you’d like to be added x)

@m00njinnie @singukieee @maisyyyyyy @noortsshift @bunnybears-stuff @authorpj @simeonswif3 @msrmimi @nobody3210 @djodjom1 1 @jkriri @btsizlyfe @dachshunddame @cherriescream @sassy-snassy @kiki-zb @sebastianwhore13 @juju-227592 @jungshaking

[jeoncasino]

Prospects

⋆ †₊ 0.1

Tired of life and all it had to bring for you, things take a turn when you find out two of your friends start to take a liking to you. With newfound emotions and a whole lot of drama, what happens when they start competing for your love?

Pairings: JJK x fem! reader [x KNJ]

Genre: college au, love triangle, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, slow burn, eventual smut.

Tags: rich! jjk, law student! jjk, dark hair! jjk, sweet! jjk, jealous! jjk, needy! jjk, obsessed! jjk, but also dom! jjk, slightly toxic! jjk, english major! knj, boy bsf! knj, co-worker! knj, husband material! knj, brown hair! knj, sweet! knj, jealous! knj, sad knj:(, pet names, everything’s so complicated and everyone’s in denial, jk's love language is physical touch and acts of service, jk has mommy issues so he's too attached to oc, joonie is so sweet i feel bad for him, gguk will try everything in his power to make oc his, ggukkie lowkey hates joonie lol, this is an actual slow burn yay!

Warnings: mentions of drug use.

⋆ †₊ Series Masterlist

Minors do not interact.

Smoke surrounds you. For a moment, the noises and lights from the party, once a chaotic blend, seperate distinctly. Each sound creates its own frequency, each beam of light cutting through the haze in sharp lines. Everything around you slows down, the moment captivating you in a trance that would otherwise not been achieved without smoking a certain plant.

Elaine, your best friend, who was sitting to your left, seems to be talking to you. You can't quite grasp what she's saying, but she leaves shortly afterward, leaving you alone in the beautiful backyard of this otherwise dirty frat house. You really were avoiding going inside—the floors were sticky, and it smells funky. Honestly, you didn’t even want to be there. Frat parties aren’t your thing. But Elaine, in apparent need of de-stressing (though later confessing she just wanted to see her latest infatuation, Zia), had dragged you out on a Thursday night. You thought about getting mad and leaving, but she’s your best friend—and every guy here looks like they’d spike her drink—so you stayed. Plus, she bought you a blunt, so it evened out.

As you gazed at the dark-glowing canvas of the night sky, you felt a presence beside you. Skeptically, you glanced to your right, only to find a man staring at you. You jumped.

“Oh my god?” you gasp, eyes wide, hand over your heart.

The guy laughs, clearly amused by your reacton. Trying to figure him out, you took a look at him. He wore a loose white shirt and baggy jeans. Dark hair framed his face. Two rings pierced the right side of his mouth, his right arm covered in tattoos. Honestly, you felt intimidated—frat parties drew all kinds of people, you know? But when you finally met his eyes, the softness of his gaze made him seem far more approachable then you originally thought.

“Will you quit staring?” He teased.

Your cheeks burned. “Oh please, I’m on drugs,” you muttered, looking away, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I know. Thought I’d join you on your trip.”

Confused, and extremely thirsty, you asked, “Who are you?”

“Seriously?” He replied, somewhat annoyed. “Jeon Jeongguk. We share a class—U.S History with Mrs. Webster,” He paused, anticipating an answer. He met silence. “No?”

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m too high to remember anyone from that class.” Thinking it over, you added, “Seriously, though, I don’t think I’ve ever talked to you.”

And that’s because you hadn’t. Jeongguk, though quite popular, found himself completely partner-less tonight. He didn’t like being alone, so when he spotted you, high and alone, he thought he’d try his usual trick with you—pretending he knew you from somewhere. It usually worked.

Not today though. At your response, he was utterly offended. Did you seriously not know who the Jeon Jeongguk was? Even he recognized you—the sharing a class part not being a lie—so it made no sense. Although, he didn’t know your name either, so maybe you did know him, just not his name, and the drugs are clouding him from your memory.

Yeah, he thought, it’s definitely the drugs. “Did you know marijuana causes memory issues?”

You snorted. “Just say you’re offended.”

He shrugged. “What’s got you all alone out here?”

“My horny friend, I guess.” You turn to face him. “You?”

“I was taught to never leave a pretty girl like you alone,”

“Okay, Mr. Charming, please be serious.”

He laughed. “My friends ditched me too.”

“Hm,” You didn’t know what else to say. Usually, you were good at small talk, but you were literally in cloud nine and too thirsty to properly think. “Do you mind getting me some water? I’ve got cotton mouth and don’t want to go inside.”

“It smells wierd doesn’t it?” He scrunched his nose as he replied. You nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

Many chit-chat’s and half a bottle of wine later—Jeongguk found it somewhere in the frat—you both bid goodbye with teary eyes and warm embraces, somehow convinced you’d never see each other again after this party. Both of you not letting go, Elaine and his friends have to literally pry you guys apart, causing everyone to fall comically like dominoes.

Attempting to open your eyes you rubbed them, immediately closing them as the morning sun assaults your vision. What even happened yesterday? Your head pounded, nausea swirled in your gut. You felt horrible. Trying to go back to sleep, you turned in your bed, feeling the dreaded build-up of saliva once you layed on your side. Uh-oh.

You rushed to your bathroom just in time.

“Elaine?” you half-yelled, wiping your mouth with your hand muffling your voice.

No response. You stumble out of your room and head for the kitchen. There, your find an already-ready best friend cooking god-knows-what.

Looking up at you, she said, “Good morning, Mrs. Jeon,” her tone dripping with mockery.

“What? Mrs. Jeon?” Confused, you try to piece together last night’s events, but it’s no use. Panicking, you exclaimed, “Oh my God, Elaine, what happened yesterday?!”

She looked at you unimpressed. “Oh, nothing much. Just that you and Jeongguk were all over each other yesterday!”

“Jeon who?” You asked.

“Be so serious right now,” She couldn’t believe you. “Y/n, he’s like, super well-known around campus. Rich as hell and a jerk.” She added, “Cheated on Jayla, rejected me when you bet me to hit on him for five dollars.” Elaine huffed with her arms crossed.

Recalling how hilarious that day was, you laughed so hard your headache worsened tenfold. “I might die if I keep laughing,” you stuttered, gripping the kitchen counter for dear life. “Is that why you don’t like him?”

“This isn’t funny! You guys made fools of yourselves last night. I genuinely thought he laced your drink.”

Drink. The word triggers flashes of last night—Jeongguk approaching you, him bringing you water, a bottle of wine somehow appearing in your hands. Blood drained from your face as you remembered how you parted ways—throwing yourself into his arms, him not letting go, literally shedding tears as Elaine dragged you out of the frat’s backyard.

You’ll make sure to never drink again after this.

“Elaine, did I really—”

“Yes, Y/n, you did! Do you know how embarrassing that was? Don’t even get me started on the reputation you just gained yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All his closest friends were there,” she said, serving her plate with freshly cooked eggs. “They thought you guys fucked or something.”

“Ew?”

“Did you really?” The question almost offended you.

“Stop! God, no, obviously not,” you shuddered. “Just because we hugged?”

“No, because Jeon fucks everything he touches,” she replies matter-of-factly. “He also got a little possessive, he wouldn’t let go.”

“Of me?”

“Yeah, we all fell to the ground because y’all wouldn’t budge. My biceps are sore, no joke.”

You slumped against the counter, hiding your face in disbelief. “Wait so, now people think I’m easy?”

“Yes. Now let’s just hope the rumor didn’t spread outside the frats,” she said, walking out of the kitchen with her plate full of eggs. “People were watching, you know? I almost left you there with that whore. Anyway, you better get ready—your first class starts in 20.”

You sprint to your room.

“Thanks for saving me a spot.”

Namjoon lifted his backpack from the seat next to him as you slid into it, placing your own bag on the floor.

“No worries, buns,” he said, noticing your wet hair immediately. “Were you in a rush this morning?”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

“Did you have a night shift yesterday? I don’t recall scheduling you late this week.”

“No, it’s just that Elaine dragged me to this party and I—” You stopped yourself. Were you really going to expose your half-secret to Joonie out in the open? Nuh-uh. “I’m just so hungover. Let’s talk later. Focus on class.”

Although curious as to what happened last night that got you this flustered, Namjoon chose to not push the subject, both of you focusing now on whatever the professor was droning about.

You liked that he always walked you to class. Obviously if his class was far or if he got busy he wouldn’t, but for the most part he did. You found it chivalrous, a trait that most men nowadays lacked. That’s why you liked Namjoon—he was friendly but polite, not shy to ask about your personal life but never stepping any boundaries. Not to mention his other great qualities, like how intelligent or hard working he is. You both had gotten originally close through Yeyo’s café—he trained and guided you along the harsh path of being a first-time barista—and having worked most shifts together, you became each other’s favorite co-worker, mingling whenever and hanging outside of work at times. At these occasional dates, the both of you learnt you shared similar struggles, like not having anyone support you financially or having complicated relationships with your families. All these things made relating to him easier. He never failed to make you laugh or help you see the good in the bad, and for him you were grateful.

Now you’re here—two months later, at the same university—him walking you to class while you complained about the workload your professor just assigned.

“I mean is he kidding? Not everyone has free time like him. I’ve got work!”

“I think his wife’s divorcing him or something,”

You gasp. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled at your reaction. “You know the professor’s assistant?”

“Oh, the one who wants you?” you teased with a grin, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

Namjoon elbowed you gently. “Stop it,” he muttered. You laughed at his flustered expression.

“Anyway,” he continued, eager to change the subject, “the other day, I stayed after class to ask her for some extra points, but she got off track and started telling me all sorts of things about him.”

“Like what?” you asked, leaning into him with interest.

“Why do you sound excited?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t act like you don’t indulge in professor drama,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

Namjoon chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad,” you shot back, avoiding his gaze.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” he teased.

“Okay, fine! Just tell me what she said, please,” you pouted, grabbing onto his arm, feeling the firmness of his muscles. You knew that whenever you did this, he’d give in—like that one time at the fair when you’d been so thirsty you begged for a water bottle that cost him twenty bucks.

He sighed, giving in as expected. “Well, according to her, his wife wanted a Chanel bag, but the professor wouldn’t buy it for her. Then, she thought he was having an affair, so she looked through his things, but she found out he lied about how much money he’d inherited, so now she’s filing for divorce.”

“Gosh, I almost feel bad for him,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting. “Almost.”

“Meanie,” Namjoon grinned and squeezed your nose.

“Hey! Stop, you’re—” About to punch him for ruining your makeup, he darted away as fast as he could.

“I’ll kill that motherfucker,” you muttered, opening the door of your next class.

“And I was like, are you dumb?” Elaine exclaimed through the phone.

After your last class, you decided you’d stop by the nurse’s office to get something that would soothe your headache, when you recieved a call from your best friend. Though spontaneous calls weren’t surprising, what she had just informed you was.

Apparently, she met up earlier with Zia, who had the audacity to ask her if she found it embarrassing to have a friend who had slept with Jeongguk. And obviously, her being the bestest, most protective friend ever, denied the rumors going around the frats in attempt of clearing your name.

As you walked out of the nurse’s office and into the bustling campus, she continued, “And I swear, in that moment, I was about to punch her. I mean, I always knew Zia was a little dense, but this? Ugh, it’s infuriating! I don’t even know why we fucked anymore.” She sighed heavily.

You found a bench under a large oak tree and sat down, needing to process everything. You’d been too busy with classes to think much about the previous night’s events, but now, with the day’s tasks behind you, the anxiety started creeping back in.

“Did you guys actually fuck yesterday?” you asked, leaning back against the bench.

“No, we had literally just fucked at the sorority, when she started asking dumb ass questions,” Elaine huffed. “I think I’m never finding love.”

“Don’t say that, E,” you replied, rubbing your temples. “You’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

Elaine’s voice softened. “How are you holding up, though? I’m sorry for everything. I can’t help but feel responsible,” she added, and you could practically see her pouting on the other end of the line.

You took a deep breath. “Honestly, I was too busy this morning to even care, but now that I have time to think, I kind of just want to hide from everyone.”

“I’m sorry. I love you, okay? Don’t forget that.”

“I love you more.”

“Well I got to go, I’ll see you back at the apartment.”

Listening to the ring which notified the call was over, you finally had some time to process everything. Trying to find where you went wrong, the most controversial thing that happened all night was the fact that you were hanging out with… Jeongyeo? Or was it Jeongyu? Uh, you’ll make sure to ask Elaine later. Anyways, you saw no harm from having an innocent chat with him. All you did was drink with a rich frat college guy— and basically cry to each other but that was too embarrassing to even think about—so your ever crumbling reputation made no sense. You guys didn’t fuck, most certainly didn’t kiss, and by now the guy should’ve cleared the rumors, so why were they making such a fuss over it?

It was all so childish. Yet, despite your attempts to rationalize it, your stomach churned, your hands grew clammy, and your mind raced with anxiety. Every passerby seemed to stare at you with judgmental eyes.

You sighed deeply. This felt like high school all over again. You had to pull yourself together. If these people wanted to make a fuss over nothing and use you as their entertainment, then so be it. You had bigger things to worry about—like paying your bills or pursuing a career. So, with that, you decided to push the drama to the back of your head and refocus on what really mattered, finally finding peace once again in your mind.

And at peace you were.

At least that was the case until you got back home, because as soon as you walked into the apartment, Elaine rushed over, breaking the news to you. “Y/n, you won’t believe this. That miserable old landlord is raising our rent!”

You blinked, trying to process the new discovery. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Elaine threw her hands up in frustration. “I begged him to exclude us from the raise, but he wouldn’t budge. He said it’s either pay up or move out.”

Trying your hardest not to kill him right now, you paused. What were you going to do now?

Trying to keep an optimistic outlook, you replied, “Look, I know it’ll be hard, but we can do this. Let’s just take extra shifts at work and start looking for an affordable place to stay at.”

She wasn’t sure about your proposition. You both worked long hours as is, not to mention how time consuming and disrupting it was for school.

“Y/n, we barely get to sleep some days,” Elaine said so lowly it was almost a whisper. Finding the situation impossible, she added, “I’m dropping out.”

You scoffed, “Are you crazy? You’re not doing that,”

“What else is there to do Y/n?” She frowned.

Lips pursed, you racked your brain trying to come up with a solution. Dropping out was not an option, and if keeping your education meant being homeless, then so be it. You both had a car, so maybe you guys could sleep there until you found a new place. And if you had to shower, you could probably just ask Namjoon if-

“Oh my god! Namjoon!” You yelled as you reached for your phone.

“What? Y/n what are you doing?”

Dialing Namjoon’s number, you replied with a smile on your face, “Pack your stuff, we’re crashing Joonies place.”

Author: pls this took me long enough to post and im not sure i even like it lmfoaoaoa. nobody told me how hard and time consuming this was. anyways yall if it sucks LMK ! i’ll make sure to burn this post down if it sucks ass. shout out to anyone who finished reading the first chapter of this series ! omm ilysm. i’ll also try to comment the people who wanted to be added to my taglist, hopefully it works. bye !

This is a work of fiction. The scenes, characters and events depicted are purely fictional and not intended to represent real-life procedures or individuals. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Do not use this story as your own.

@jeoncasino 2024 ©

[byuljoonie]

The fact that I’ve been watching and crying to Howl’s moving castle the past week and a half,,,now joon plays it on the piano?.?? IM A WRECK shdbdjdsbsjsj

[muniimyg]

NAKED // KNJ

note to self: take baths alone from now on

+

in which nam joon takes any and every opportunity to see you naked

pairing: boyfriend nam joon + oc 

au/genre:

(new) established relationship

non-idol au

fluff, crack, and smut

warnings:

explicit langauge and behaviour ...

cockwarming & riding,, some titty grabbing & basic ass position changes

THEY SAY ILY FOR THE FIRST TIME :D

note: originally posted on @/meowachi ,, revised !!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @prdshobi @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns

The water is colder than you expected. 

Your body reacts with goosebumps to which you let out a shiver. Maybe you took too much time getting everything ready that you missed this bath water’s prime temperature… Guess you didn’t girl-math this right. 

Oh well. 

There’s always next time, right?

Thankfully, his bare body holding yours makes it easier to adjust. He nuzzles his chin on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist, not missing the chance to hold your breasts for a moment. You scold him as if it’s second nature and he leaves a trail of kisses up and down your neck as an apology. 

Then, you take this moment in. Honestly, setting up music was a good idea. Along with the scented candles, the bubbles in your bath, the bath lavender bath bomb, and the bath salts—all such amazing details. Everything would’ve been perfect if only Nam Joon wasn’t complaining every five seconds. 

“I hate baths.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“The bath salts went up my ass—”

Finally, you shush him.

“Please,” he cries, “can we fuck?”

Rolling your eyes, you raise your hand and flick him with your fingers. He purses his lips and shuts his eyes in response. Nam Joon sighs, feeling defeated for the nth time tonight. Prior to this bath, he had suggested shower sex. To which, you argued you’d be too afraid to try since you’re as clumsy as they come… And he himself… Well, it was nice of him to ask.

It’s not like you didn’t want to have sex tonight… No, of course, you do. Your handsome and beefy boyfriend was naked, holding you.. Who wouldn’t be turned on? You just feel like being annoying. You want to push him as far as you can. You want to see how good he stays. How well self-disciplined he is. 

So, you sink into his body again, taking another deep breath in. 

Let’s try this again.

Relax.

You want to relax. 

That’s all you want to do.

It doesn’t last. A few giggles escape your lips as he begins to place small kisses on your shoulder all the way to the sides of your face. 

“Nam Joon…” you attempt to sound annoyed.

In his low voice, he hums; “Yes, my love?”

“You’re not making me feel relaxed!” Suddenly, you squirm as he bites your shoulder playfully. “I want to—stop that! I just want to relax, Joonie! You said you wanted to join me. You insisted.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs, only half meaning his apology. No, he wasn’t sorry. He was a man, after all. What idiot would turn down being naked in a tub of water with you? Fucking losers, that’s who. 

He squishes your body closer to him. “So... is this what you do?” 

You nod.

“Is this all that you do? This is so boring. You don’t even have those ducks to play with or like a toy boat that moves—”

“Nam Joon,” you warn, groaning at how talkative he’s becoming. “You can leave. I wouldn’t mind watching you ass walk away right now.” 

He laughs in response, getting the hint. You want to relax. He wants to be with you. This was the middle ground.

“Sorry,” he means it this time. “I’m just bored.. Like, I pictured this to be more… Sexy? Aren’t you supposed to seduce me?” Nam Joon wiggles his eyebrows at you. To that, you offer him and confused look.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ve been seducing you this entire time..” you gaslight.

He lowers his gaze. “You’ve been ignoring me since the minute we settled in the tub.”

“Aren’t you turned on?”

“No.”

You smile at him warmly, yet your tone is cold. “My love, if that’s the case… Then why do I feel your dick poking in between my legs right now?” 

He gulps.

“It’s hard.”

“I thought you said it’s boring.”

Nam Joon whines, “___, my dick is hard. I’m bored. Please sit on it.”

You gasp. 

Although, you can’t say you aren’t surprised. You’ve been together for less than a year yet he has never missed a chance to suggest such acts. Most days, you’d give in and it would be a good time. But today… You figure it would be much more fun to be a tease. This mood is sponsored by your incoming period. Regardless if it’s PMS or all your stress from work; it didn’t really matter. You just knew you weren't in the mood for super wet, slippery, hot sex in cold bath water. Imagine all the water that would be splashed on the floor! You’d be the one left to clean all of it up. Nam Joon would probably slip and hurt himself if you ordered him to do the cleaning duties.

“Okay,” you tease. “I’ll sit on your dick.”

He cheers. 

“But I won’t move.”

“W-what?” Nam Joon blinks. 

You shrug, pushing yourself up on his lap. When you find his length, you quickly guide it inside of you. No warning, not even a little rub in between. Nam Joon gulps the second he feels his cock inside of you. Unlike the water, you’re so warm. He hisses, feeling his dick begin to throb inside your tight walls. 

“M-mean,” he hisses. “You’re so mean.”

Ignoring him, you sink yourself even deeper. Now, he’s fully inside you and you’re completely sitting on him. You feel his tip and how far he is inside you.. It makes your body feel tingles and you honestly contemplate if you should just give in.

He feels so good. 

… And you hate to admit it but you overestimated yourself.

You’re having a hard time too. 

Yet, you stick it through. You have to! Rare are the moments you get where Nam Joon loses complete control.

“You asked me to sit on your dick. Sure, I’ll sit on your dick… But I’m not moving. I’m not going reverse cowgirl style. I’m not going doggy. I’m not fucking you.”

“So you’re just going to cockwarm me?” he asks, feeling betrayed. “But you love riding me!”

You glare at him. “No, I don’t. It’s tiring. It’s boring.” 

Nam Joon’s eyebrows furrow together. He tries his best to focus on your words and not how perfect you are inside of him. He’s stressed as fuck but he needs to prove to you that he can get through this… He has a feeling that winning you over will get him the reward he’s been after. 

“Then why do you do it?” 

This is news to him too. You always looked like you enjoyed riding him. Honestly, you probably ride him more than you two do in any other position. Also, why would he question it? You never really complained until now. It’s one of the things he liked so much about you.. It’s like, you just knew him. 

“You love it and I love you—”

Your eyes widen.

Did you really just say that? All this time, you were worried about slipping… Who knew it wasn’t about your body but rather your words? 

You two haven’t said it to each other yet. God, this is so fucking embarrassing. In this position too? In a fucking cold ass bath? It should’ve been more romantic! Plus, he should’ve said it first! You had it all planned out.. You were going to get it out of him before you could say it first. 

As you open your mouth to deny, take back, or spit out an excuse, his words make your world stop. 

“I love you too.”

Your breath hitches. “W-what?”

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.. For the past like… Six months but I couldn’t find the right moment. I figured one day, you’d just get it out of me yourself.” Nam Joon looks awfully shy to you right now. It makes your heart flutter. 

“I thought the same,” you confess. “I wanted you to say it first.”

“Okay,” Nam Joon chuckles, “Then I said it first.”

Your heart begins to pound louder and faster. God, was he always this good with words? In all honesty, Nam Joon has no problem being the first to yield or confess.. He just needed time. Right now, he knew it well. You’re the right person at the right time. He’s so grateful.

“I wanted it to be more romantic.”

Instantly, he dips his head and kisses you slowly. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. “A slow kiss. Romantic, right? Better?”

You shake your head. 

“You have to hold my hand when you say it,” you whine. “It only makes sense that way.”

“Then, you have to look at me,” he negotiates. “You can’t be looking the other way when I say it.”

“Fine.”

You shift, pulling his dick out for a second. You adjust yourself, opening your legs and facing him. Now, your breasts were completely in front of him. He takes slow deep breaths as you put him inside you again. You wrap your arms around his neck and tilt your head. 

God, you’re so sexy.

With or without clothes, Nam Joon thinks you’re the sexiest human to ever exist. It wasn’t because your body was perfect; it was all because of the way you carried your confidence. It was that exact something he sensed and fell into an intense trance over. Moments like these play over and over in his head when he’s away from you. Moments where he feels so close to you. Physically, this was it. There is nothing more he could ask for. 

You: naked and on top of him. 

But more than that, what makes moments like these so special is the fact that he feels like he knows your soul. Bare, imperfect and so loving. It was sexy to have someone like you. It was something he had never experienced before with past loves. This was a first for him. A first real, sexy, and beautiful love. It was more than your body—it always has been. Regardless, who is he to not try? At the end of the day, he has needs. 

“Say it.” 

He laughs as he intertwines your fingers together. He raises them above the water to show you. Bringing your hands to his lips, he looks up at you and kisses your knuckles. 

“I love you, ___.”

You pout. 

He kisses your wrist and then pulls you closer to him. He kisses your breast, your collarbone, your shoulder, your cheeks, and the corner of your lip. “I’ve loved you for a while now. I’m sorry it took a cold bath to get it out of me.”

“Should’ve taken a bath together sooner.”

He laughs into your kiss. “Too bad the bath salts aren’t making me feel too sexy right now,” he confesses his uncomfortability. This is his last attempt. “Unless…”

“Spit it out,” you say, unamused.

“It’s just—”

“We’re not fucking in this bath of cold water, Joon. Give it up!” you laugh as you cup his cheeks together. You squish his lips with your thumb and index, making kissy faces at him. “No more fucking around.”

His suggestive eyes suddenly soften. “Fucking? ___, I wanted to make love… Since, you know.. I love you.”

Three times.

He said, “I love you,” three times now.

And perhaps, you’re not built for this hard-to-get lifestyle when the love of your life says such dreamy things. Of course, you’d give in. As they all say; the third time’s a charm. 

You burst into laughter, unable to hold yourself back. Desperately, you kiss him for what feels like forever, and as much as you resist; you end up riding him. 

The second you move yourself up and down, Nam Joon’s eyes widen and he smiles into the kiss. He can’t believe he won you over. 

“Fucking finally… Or should I say… Finally fucking?” Nam Joon chides, liking his word play more than he should.

Nerd alert.

You grunt, “s-shut up.” 

As you two continue to make out, you begin to move your hips as you slowly but surely begin to bounce on his hard cock. It feels so good to finally do this. As you move at a faster pace, the water begins to splash and for a second, you turn your head to make sure it isn’t going to flood the floor. But Nam Joon places his hand on your chin and the top of your neck, guiding you to look at him. 

“Don’t look away,” he hisses. “It’s just water. Focus on me.”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheeks. 

For stability, you place your hands on his chest. You feel his heart and how fast it’s racing. His skin has little goosebumps due to the cold water, but you can also see sweat from his forehead lightly layer on top of his perfect skin. His eyebrows are knitted together, as he gathers all his mental strength not to cum yet. At one point, you see his lips make an ‘o’. Why was he trying so hard to last? 

“Just cum,” you assure him. “It’s fine.”

He shakes his head, refusing to give in this early. “It’s your fucking boobs,” Nam Joon blames. “Mmhff—s-shit. What the hell. Fuck it.” 

Without warning, he places his hands on your waist and lifts you up. Nam Joon gently, yet firmly, turns you over. Your chin rests just over the rim of the tub, along with your arms. Your back is arched as he backs your ass up to his dick. He takes his fingers and plays with your clit for a bit. You moan, unable to fathom just how fucking sexy this all is. You feel yourself coming close. Before you know it, he sticks himself back in and begins to pump. Nam Joon pumps himself at a steady pace. At first, they were short and fast strokes that made the water spill over and you moan louder than usual. As you reach your peak and so does he; his strokes transition to long and deep ones. 

After a few more pumps, he lets himself go and cups your breasts with his hands. You don’t feel his cum inside of you as your walls still tingle, but you know it’s inside. Regardless of the water, you just know he creamed you messy as usual. 

As you two catch your breath, he kisses your neck once again. 

“For round two…” Nam Joon teases, “I’m thinking shower sex. Thoughts?”

“Haha,” you play along. “No.”

Nam Joon pouts, giving you puppy eyes. “... But I love you.” 

You can’t help but melt.

Oh, you’re so fucked.

You know for a fact he’ll be using this line for a while… And it’ll work. He’ll get you every time. But it’s okay! You love him too. You want him too. You need him too.

Besides, you’ll be charging him the water bill.

[raplinesmoon]

Breaking The Ice (KNJ x F!Reader) - teaser

pairing: hockeyplayer!namjoon x f. reader

genre/au: ice hockey au, college au, roommates au / smut, fluff, slow burn

rating: explicit/18+

summary: after last season, namjoon knows he can’t afford anymore mishaps. when you show up on namjoon’s doorstep looking to share his apartment, he thinks it couldn’t be more perfect. medical school has you even busier than he is, but what happens when what used to be the perfect arrangement turns into a bigger distraction than either of you bargained for?

word count: 911 for this teaser

warnings: clumsy Joon, injuries, lots of swearing, Joon gets a boner, OC is pretty and way too nice

a/n: *taps mic* is this thing on? happy Joon day! (i hope i made the deadline). I remembered I had this sitting on the bench (get it lol) as a scene from my wip for the 🏒on ice: for the boys collab that was announced a long time ago! I decided to spruce up this little scene and publish it, even though the final fic is nowhere near complete. This can probably even be read as a standalone (a cute moment between roomies)! I hope you enjoy this piece and happy bday again to Joonie! credits for the banner go to @joheunsaram!

You okay, Namjoon-ah?

Namjoon wants to deck Kim Seokjin and his stupid pretty boy smile into the boards just for asking, when that motherfucker knows he’s at fault for Namjoon’s current state. He feels a painful twinge in his side, sucking in a sharp breath. Practice had barely ended before Namjoon was hobbling out of the arena, the rough-housing that normally accompanied Bangtan’s practice going a little too far today.

When he sees the steps of his building come into view, he nearly wants to sob with relief. Cursing, he stumbles up them, skipping two at a time in the hopes that it’ll get him up and able to faceplant into the couch faster. Knowing his luck though, he’d probably eat his words and end up with his face straight into the ugly grey shag carpet instead.

As he limps down the hallway, he’s struck by dueling aromas – the earthy, nutty mellowness of freshly brewed coffee, and the warm, spicy cinnamon scent of cinnamon. Both coming from his door, propped open slightly, where he can hear the faint lilt of classical music escape. 

Anatomy must have been whooping your ass again.

Namjoon takes special care to slip inside quietly, wincing when he puts weight on his knee. He glances down to see that it’s swelled to an alarming size. Fucking Seokjin.

He knew he should have probably gotten it checked out by the team medic. Yoongi’s nagging is already echoing in the back of his mind, reminding Namjoon that if he wanted to be clumsy, he had to stay on top of his injuries. For the sake of his team.

But somehow getting his limbs checked by a crusty old guy who was past the retirement age didn’t seem nearly as exciting when there was you. 

You who always wore the comfiest sweats, ones he was half-tempted to steal from your closet. You and your penchant for always looking for a pen, when you always had one tucked behind your ear or in your hoodie pocket. You and your stress baking, winning the adoration of his teammates (Stupid Seokjin and his flirting), but most of all him. Your damn cinammon rolls were worth every extra minute he had to spend in the weight room keeping them off.

“Hey Joon, I was just finishing up the cinnamon rolls, they’re on the cooling rack— what happened?” Your smile falls when you take him in, knee as red as his jersey, and a nasty cut under his eyebrow, skin turning purplish underneath.

Namjoon thinks he might pass out, either from the pain or from the way your face falls in disappointment, and the plush cushions of the couch seem like a great place to bury his head into right now.

He’s given a few quiet moments to stew before he feels a soft tap on his shoulder. Lifting his head up, he swears when your face nearly collides with his, noses bumping with such force that you have to take a step back, rubbing gingerly at the bridge.

Great fucking impression you’re making on your pretty roommate, Namjoon. She’s totally into getting clocked in the face. The little devil on his shoulder must be having a ball right now.

“Fuck, ___, I’m so sorry, fuck–”

“It’s okay, Joon, I know you didn’t mean to. But we only have the resources for one injured party in this apartment, yeah?”

Namjoon feels his face heat, not sure if he’s just embarrassed or you’re too close close to him. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head when you pick up his knee, studying it with a furrow in your brow.

What a day to decide to wear grey sweatpants. His dick-print was so happy with him right now, and he silently prays that your eyes remain downwards.

“We need to wrap this up. Give me a sec and I’ll help you.” 

Is he dreaming, or does your face look a little flushed? If you notice his boner, he’s happy you don’t say anything, humming softly s you disappear into the hallway, rummaging around in the closet for the first-aid kit.

You re-appear moments later, a roll full of medical tape in your hand, and you’re back to prodding at his knee again. Namjoon sinks into the couch, body relaxing at your gentle touch.

Only to jolt a few seconds later when he feels something cold hit his aching joints, nearly whacking you a second time. God, he had to be more careful.

“Shhh,” you put a finger to his lips, and Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat. “Gotta put some ice on it.”

“You should really increase your fees, doc. I’m pretty sure at-home care isn’t included in the job description.”

Is he flirting? Fuck, okay he’s flirting. He’s doing this.

“Maybe I like knowing I’ll always have a patient who keeps me in business,” you wink, fingers lingering longer than necessary on his knee when you finish wrapping it. Your hands move next to the cut underneath his brow.

“Now what are we gonna do with you?”

Oh fuck, abort, abort mission! Namjoon shoots straight up, grimacing at your shocked gasp.

“YouknowIjustrememberedIhaveanassignmentdueatmidnighttoday! I should really go work on that!”

You say nothing as he limps into his room, smiling widely at him the whole time. Namjoon collapses on his bed, groaning into the pillows.

Maybe getting banged up wasn’t so bad after all. Not when he always had you around to patch him up.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

[btsgotjams27]

pitch fest | knj

At Pitch Fest, a high-stakes event for discovering the next big book, you find yourself reluctantly partnered with your charming yet infuriating business partner, Namjoon. As he flirts his way through the week, you struggle with your unresolved feelings from a past kiss. Amidst a whirlwind of playful bickering and simmering jealousy, Namjoon’s persistence and seductive charm ignite a passionate confrontation, leading to a revealing and intimate moment that forces you both to confront the true nature of your relationship.

✨ title: pitch fest (don’t push your luck drabble) ✨ pairing: knj x f!reader ✨ genre/au: fluff, a lil angst (you know me) | co-workers, ex-college rivals, slight e2l ✨ word count: 1.2k | ✨ rating: R ✨ warnings: jealously, some begging, namjoon’s actually kinda sweet in this one, kissing, a smol erection ✨ a/n: just a little drabble for joonie’s birthday. i’m sorry it’s been so long since i’ve written anything. i’m honestly surprised i was able to even write anything. anywho, i hope you enjoy it. (oop--forgot to mention this is my don't push your luck couple!)

[ MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST ] | read > late nights (drabble)

Pitch Fest is a yearly event where authors and agents speed date to try and find the best, up-and-coming books.

In previous years, you attended these events with your beloved ex-colleague, Raha, but this year, you’re stuck with your partner in crime, Namjoon. And as you expected, he turned on his charm, ready to sign any author that made a pass at him or slipped them their number. If you only had a dollar for every time that happened, then maybe you wouldn’t have to go into business with him.

You expected the door to slam shut after you, but it didn’t. Instead, a hand pounds against it, propping it open.

Namjoon calls out your name and like the stubborn person you are, you don’t answer. You’re ready for the week to be over so you can head back home and cuddle up with a fluffy blanket and a cup of hot chocolate.

Normally, you’d pack everything in your suitcase the morning of, but you need to keep yourself occupied or else you’ll throw a hair dryer at Namjoon’s head. You’re only keeping the essentials out to wash up tonight and tomorrow, along with your pajamas and set of new clothes.

There’s a felt presence behind you as you’re pulling shirts and dresses off their hangers.

“What’s going on?” Namjoon asks, grasping your arm, but you knock into him on your way to the bathroom.

You can hear a small sigh coming from him as you walk away. You’re ridiculous—you know you are. The two of you have never defined anything regarding your relationship, so flirting with other people shouldn’t have you riled up. He’s free to do whatever or whoever he wants. You just hate that he kissed you during Christmas and nothing has come of it since then.

Of course, there’s the constant quips and butting of heads, but that’s nothing new with the pair of you. That’s how it’s always been.

Namjoon leans against the door frame, watching you grab your makeup, and stuff it in your bag. “Can you talk to me? Please?”

You catch his gaze in the mirror, ignoring his question again.

A beat passes and he isn’t ready to give up. He stands beside you, urging you to stop what you’re doing.

“I can’t read your mind. Did I do something wrong?” His eyes are desperately searching for any kind of reaction.

You suck in your lips, turning to him with a fake smile. “Nope. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re just being you.” There’s a twinge of displeasure when you deliver that last line.

He pulls back, stunned by your hostility. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You shrug. “You’re practically flirting and throwing yourself at women this entire week.”

Namjoon scoffs. “That’s what you’re mad about? It’s our job to get the best authors. What do you think I’m doing?”

“You were totally flirting with that one author,” you mumble, shaking your head as you continue stuffing your bag. The author with the low-cut top and mini skirt who was trying to sell her book about her dog's diary.

His mouth hangs before replying, “I was not!” He reassures you.

You whip around. “Yeah huh!” You cringe when you realize you sound like a child, and you hate that Namjoon can do this to you. It shouldn’t be so easy for him to push your buttons, but he’s like an itch you can’t scratch, a bug you can’t squash, a—you get the picture. He’s a pain in the ass.

He crosses his arms and cocks his head. “And if I was? Are you jealous or something?”

Your eyes go bug-eyed. “Me? Jealous?  Pfft–you couldn't be more wrong.”

You whiz past him again, but he grasps your hand, pulling you and backing you up against the counter. Your eyes dart to his and you're praying he can't see the visible gulp you just swallowed.

“What?” you seethe through your teeth.

Namjoon's smirk makes you want to wipe it off his face. “You're cute when you're jealous. Should've done more of it so I could see you like this.”

If only your eyes could burn straight through that big head of his.

“Don't call me cute,” you huff, looking down at the ground.

His expression softens, and he raises your chin. He softly looks into your eyes, and you follow him as he glances at your lips, then back up. Namjoon's thumb strokes your cheek, making your heart flutter and your stomach somersault. Your chest rises and falls, breaths slowing down as you scan his face and your eyes land on the delicate beauty mark just below his lower lip.

“Cute.”

Your jaw tightens when he says it again. “I hate you.”

Those three words come out of your mouth but you don’t really mean it—well, maybe like 90% of it. He has some redeeming qualities.

“Yeah?” Namjoon’s fingers trace your jaw, then your neck. “What do you hate? Gotta be specific.”

“I hate….your lips,” you say breathlessly when he touches your collarbone.

“What else?” He growls, moving closer to you, his forehead now resting against yours.

“Your voice.”

Namjoon pulls back with a low chuckle and hums.

“Hate how it does something to me, especially during work meetings, when you pull me close and whisper in my ear,” you admit. His voice goes deep and rumbles, sending shivers throughout your body. Every. Single. Time.

He leans in close, right next to your ear. His breath warms up your skin, making your hair stand on its end.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your hands are splayed across his taut chest, toying with the button on his dress shirt. “You're gonna have to work a lot harder for a kiss.”

“You're gonna make me beg, aren't you?”

“As you should.” It’s only fair, you think.

“Please…” Namjoon whispers, lips ghosting over yours, his thigh now slotted between your legs. “Can I kiss you?”

“Wouldn't you rather kiss Miss-Mini-Skirt?” you quip, knowing full well he doesn’t—evident of his arousal.

Namjoon shakes his head. “She's not the one slotted between my thighs, now is she?”

“Hmm, I suppose you have a point.”

“So, please…let me kiss you.”

“Or what?”

He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against yours. “Or else I'm gonna go insane like I've been all week, sleeping in the same room with you, being so close but can't touch you.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you play with the ends of his hair, twirling it around your fingers. You pull back, eyes wandering to his, then to his lips—they’re full and plump, ready to be ravished. Not gonna lie, you’ve been dreaming about them for months on end.

”Well, are you gonna stand there or kiss me?”

A smile sweeps across Namjoon’s face before he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. It’s soft, even hesitant for a few moments until you pull him closer. His hands are on your waist, then traces along your thighs, hooking his hands around them, lifting you onto the frosty marble countertop.

He breaks the kiss, but his lips are attached to yours again within seconds.

“Joon?” You say breathlessly with half-lidded eyes.

”Yeah?” He’s restless, wanting more kisses from you. Namjoon catches your bottom lip, nibbling, making his way across to the other side.

“I still hate your lips because they're so plush and soft.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Good. Come hate my lips some more.”

[kookslastbutton]

Reflections ༓ kth (m) | "Stay with me until the end of the day"

✑ Summary: As a new hire at one of the most prestigious jewelry brands in the world; Adrien & Rosamel in Paris, you've been trying to build your professional portfolio for months. So when global brand ambassador Kim Taehyung comes in for a photoshoot but his personal photographer is unavailable, the company offers the gig to you. Oh of course you take it in a heartbeat—it's a given.

pairing: brand ambassador!Taehyung x new photographer!reader

genre/AU: fluff, angst, smut, photography au, modeling au, s2l, two part series (duology?)

word count: 11.3k

warnings: exposes "dark side" of fashion world, oc gets insulted by fashion assistants (b-word dropped once but our oc bites back), flirty yet annoying videographer!kook, angry!seokjin, sunshine!stylist!hobi, charming!makeup artist!jimin, cool manager!joonie, Taehyung is an elegant flirt and not like the others, jazz bar date🥺, Taehyung calls her darling a lot, tehyung gets jealous, talk about long distance relationship, sexual content

sexual warnings: dom!Taehyung, sub!reader, explicit sex (use of condom), big dick!tae (it takes a bit to get it all the way in 😬), praise kink, lingerie, small jewelry kink? (He f's oc with their ruby necklace on), doggy, size kink, multiple org*sms, squ*rting, oral (f. Receiving), half a hand*b, f*ngering, overstimulation, little bit of breastplay, cussing, d*rtytalk, foreplay, a little expressiveness, mention of aftercare, Taehyung just adores hers, hot car make out, mention of morning s*x

now playing: Slow Dancing by thv

a/n: first omg i never reached 11k in my life. Secondly, shoutout to anyone who has seen Devil Wears Prada...a personal favorite of mine. Also Layover is omg the best thing ever! So i decided to focus on slow dancing for this fic. Pls enjoy ❤

How many twenty-something-year-olds can say they work at one of the biggest, most luxurious jewelry & fragrance brands in the world? And on top of that, are located in the fashion capital; Paris, France? A rare handful, and it's because of those reasons that they're given the lowest positions possible; you being one of them.

Sure, climbing the corporate ladder is possible with years of relentless dedication, raw talent, and of course, let's not forget connections with the higher-ups. But competition grows fiercer with each passing year as more eager young people gun for advancements in hopes of survival.

After all, who can afford to be stuck on the bottom rung forever?

You didn't want to believe the undertone theme in the critically acclaimed movie The Devil Wears Prada was true, that underneath the glitz and glam of haute couture are ruthless, cutthroat fashion moguls. But from the moment you stepped through the doors of Adrien & Rosamel in your coffee brown slacks and beige button down shirt, it couldn't be refuted–

No one was your friend and no one wanted to be.

Newbies must establish their professional value to the brand as early as possible to prevent being cut at any given moment. On the other hand, experienced professionals who have already earned their merit through decades of labor refuse to give up the stake to their claim and must be careful not to have the carpet swept from under their feet to a junior half their age.

It's a vicious race and despite its bitter nature, you're at the very heart of it.

As a fashion photographer, your ultimate goal is to have weeks' worth of sessions with models from all over the world; all adorned with timeless pieces from genuine gold watches to the richest of gemstones.

These are the types of photographers who are the best and brightest in the industry. They have at least ten years of experience and are booked until the very last second with modeling photoshoots.

The odd prodigy exist too; individuals who are born with an insane wealth of insight and skill which allow them to move up in rank faster.

You wish you were good enough to be considered a prodigy but no such luck. Adrien & Rosamel have insanely high standards on who is allowed to handle the jewelry, let alone be around the models who are so-called showcasing them.

So here you are day what—241? And still stuck taking photos of the same jewelry pieces day in and day out. Sure the theme of the photos gets changed slightly but it's been eight months of this generic work and truth be told, you're getting sick of it.

.

"__!" Seokjin, your coworker and one of A&R's jewelry polishers calls your name anxiously. He rushes to your side where you're taking close-up photos of a limited-edition steel watch. "Be gentle with this, will you? This is selling for 7,000 euros which means $8,000, 10 million south korean won, and 6,000 pounds. I also just finished polishing it so don't be getting your grubby fingerprints all over it!"

You roll your eyes and continue to move the watch around on the display table until you get a perfect angle. "Relax princess, I'm barely touching it and I have gloves on."

Seokjin's fluffy eyebrows furrow together, face scrunching at the nickname you chose for him. "That's—that's completely uncalled for! Do you know how long I spent buffering the face of the watch alone?! One hour __!"

You hate yourself from bursting out in laughter but this isn't the first time you've gotten lectured by Seokjin. Its like the tiniest detail would set him off. Seokjin's been with the brand a little longer than you; a year now, but he still has that constant need to micromanage everyone he can.

"Look," he continues his scold. "If anything happens to these priceless watches it's my head on the chopping block. I can't afford to lose my job __!"

"Yes, I understand Seokjin. Nothing will happen to these alright?" You move around the man to get more pictures of the watch lying elegantly on its side. "Don't you have about fifty other watches to shine or do you like nitpicking my every movement instead?"

Seokjin scoffs at you, sticks his hands on his hip and walks away with a disapproving shake of his head. "I have my eye on you junior," he warns.

You ignore his subtle jab and continue taking photos. "Creep," you mutter under your breath.

Ten minutes pass and you're about ready to move on to the editing process for your photos. You take a quick peek at them through your camera, clicking through the gallery with the right arrow button.

"Not bad newbie," you hear a voice come from over your shoulder that causes you to jump in surprise.

"What the fuck Jeon," you throw your best side-eye at the young man who happens to be your only acquaintance in the whole company. His role was similar to yours, but instead of photographing jewelry he films them; he's a videographer. "I'm beginning to think you like sneaking up on me on purpose."

The young man laughs with a child-like energy. "What can I say? Seeing you flustered does something to me. But actually, I was just passing by. Haven't talked to you in a while."

Come to think of it he has a point. You haven't seen Jeon Jungkook in about two weeks straight. The two of you aren't friends so you don't check up on each other constantly but you'd like to think you have good rapport.

"What have you been up to anyway? I've seen you rushing around the place like you have millions of appointments to make," you ask.

"I've become a busy man babe," he replies with a cheeky grin. "The higher-ups have noticed my talent and I'm playing with the big boys now."

"You talk about the higher-ups like they're Big Brother or something. Come on, tell me again but in laymen terms."

He sighs at the need to repeat himself. "Okay, listen. I'm working with the models now and more specifically I have a 2 o'clock gig with Kim Taehyung tomorrow. You know, our global ambassador? I'm shooting the film portion of the campaign we're running for him. Isn't that insane?!" His eyes glow up at the mere mention of Kim Taehyung who you are well aware of.

Everything about your famed global ambassador is a fashion photographer's dream; tall, lean, and tantalizingly handsome.

"Of course, I know who Kim Taehyung is. His face is plastered all over the walls of Adrien & Rosamel. Even saw his face on one of our company mugs. Anyone who's anyone will sell their left kidney to breathe in the same room with him but how the heck did you land a shoot with him this early? You've been here for less time than me!"

You're not shouting, you promise. Just extremely envious at the continuous luck Jungkook is having.

"Well," he starts drawling his words. "I might have gotten close with Park Ji-hun over the last month or so. His daughter in particular." You raise your eyebrows in awe.

Park Ji-hun has been Kim Taehyung's personal photographer for nearly ten years. And next to the model himself, he's another highly talked about individual at Adrien & Rosamel.

"Please tell me you didn't use his daughter for your own professional gain," you interject. Jungkook waves his hands around disapprovingly at your suspicion.

"I didn't, we went out on a blind date. I didn't know who her father was until half-way through the date."

"Mhm, something tells me that that's not completely true."

"Okay, so maybe her name sounded a little familiar but I swear, I didn't know they were the same person. But long story short, we started going out and I managed to win her father's approval. And now he's letting me shoot with him!" Jungkook's enthusiasm dies when he sees you doing your best to give a tight-lipped smile. "Babe, listen. I know you and I had a thing a few months back but....you're not still pining over me are you?"

You shove him in the shoulder at the ridiculous question. "We never had a thing. Stop it. I'm just trying to wrap my mind around your recent success."

Jungkook shrugs. "I guess its fate. And we definitely had a thing," he gives a wink. "Well anyway, I need to get to another appointment in ten. Jimin's gonna completely flip if I'm late."

Your mouth gapes open. "You're working with Park Jimin too? He's one of our best makeup artists, what the hell?"

"There are many colors that suit you __. Green's not one of them." Jungkook spins himself around and walks away from you. "Catch you later!"

"Goddamnit," you curse to yourself. "Is he Mr. Perfect or something?"

"__, we're gonna need the space in about five minutes." Another photographer calls from behind you, reminding you that you need to make yourself scarce.

The next morning is absolute madness with the news of Kim Taehyung's arrival in Paris.

As one of the most iconic brand ambassadors and haute couture models, he has quite an impressive fan following from countries all over the world including France. From the moment he steps out of his plane until the minute he enters Adrien & Rosamel, the man is constantly surrounded by masses of people all standing around with their phone cameras.

The company doesn't exactly give him a break from the high intensity of the crowd either. All the assistants working today are tasked with both meeting his requests and socializing with him while the rest of the team hauls around studio equipment for his photoshoot.

"Did you see the way he looked at me Ha-rin?" You overhear one of the assistants boast to the other while passing in the hallway. "I've had such a crush on him for years and I finally have the chance to meet him. I swear, I'll do anything he asks me to do."

"Oh my god, how dense can you be? Sure he smiled at you but let's not forget who it was he asked to get water from," the second woman spats back, raising the unopened bottle of water in her left hand. "It was me. I'm the one he wanted."

You snort at how snarky the two of them are to each other. As if Kim Taehyung would give so much of a blink their way let alone "want" either of them. You've never met the man but you've seen his face enough to know he could have anyone he desired. And it sure as hell wasn't going to be anyone from the company.

"Excuse me," Ha-rin stops in her tracks and speaks in your direction. "Is there something you find funny?"

"I'm sorry?" You freeze in place, unsure of what the woman's referring to.

"Don't play coy junior. You snorted at us, kinda nosy to be listening in on a private conversation."

Fuck sake, you are getting so tried of everyone calling you junior. You weren't given the name __ for it to be ignored at will.

"My apologies if it seemed that way. I assure you I was thinking of other matters." Your Majesty, you wanted to add but didn't.

Ha-rin body scans you as you speak and it immediately makes you feel self-conscious. The way she purses her lips can't be anything but venom that's about to spit out at you. "It better be that way. And by the way, those pants don't do anything for you. Maybe wear a dress next time," she slithers.

"Oh you mean like the dress you're wearing?" you reply. "No thanks. I'm not looking to impress anyone here. I have to get back to work now so you'll both excuse me," you bid them adieu and continue walking down to your office.

"What a bitch," you overhear one of them say and you clench your fists with tears brimming underneath your eyes.

Don't you dare cry __. Not here.

So some of your eye makeup got smudged from your incident with thing 1 and thing 2. You hate how much such a shallow jab got to you but, you're only human.

Coming into such a luxe company you expected this type of behavior. Yet your dreams are so much bigger than them. You'll push through like always.

"Hey," a knock pounds on your door. "Need to talk to you. Busy?" Its you manager Namjoon.

"No." You give him your full attention. "What's going on?"

Namjoon closes his eyes in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. "We have a situation," he starts.

"Okay...what happened Joon?"

"Our shoot with Kim Taehyung is in less than an hour and Park Ji-hun is nowhere to be found in the building. We called him up and looks like he had another shoot scheduled during the same slot. Must have been an overlook on our part, his part, I don't care whose fault it is. But we need someone to fill in right now or we're not going to have any material for our campaign." It comes out all at once and the feeling of whiplash washes over you.

"On top of that," he continues, "I don't want to waste monsieur's time. He just flew 14 hours from Seoul. So, can you do it or no?"

Oh my god...you repeat at least twice in your head before forming a response.

"I'd be very grateful for this opportunity but shouldn't this go to the next best photographer available? I only shoot jewelry on its own. I've never done—"

"You are our next best option __. All our photographers are booked with other models for the next three months. You've been here long enough to know how packed schedules get. Please, I've seen your work. It's good. And if you want an in for your career, I'd grab your camera and meet Kim in the studio in two minutes."

"Well I—"

"Yes or no __? Because I can always give the opportunity to another jewelry photographer. I'd rather not because they're techniques not as good as yours but I'll do it if I have to."

Your mind scrambles for a concise answer. You've been working towards something like this for months, doing your best to perfect your craft in hopes the higher-ups might recognize you as they did Jungkook. Yet until now it's been null; no one has made you such an important offer.

"I'll grab my equipment and meet you all in the studio," you decide. Your manager nods in approval and moves to exit your office.

"That's what I was hoping to hear. You'll be working closely with Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok. I'm sure you're familiar with them, no?"

"Yes sir," you reply. "Quite familiar."

"Jung Hoseok," the man with likely the brightest and most genuine smile you've ever seen shakes your hand. "I'm Kim Taehyung's stylist for this shoot. We're going for laid-back, yet elegant and refined for the studio shoot. Tomorrow we'll go with a completely free theme when we shoot at the beach. I have some specific fashion pieces picked out that I think he'll make pop for this campaign."

"That sounds great Hoseok. I wasn't aware we were going to a location tomorrow though." You don't mean to sound naive but you really were just thrown into this only minutes ago.

He lets go of your hand after the quick shake. "Yes, we have a two-day shoot planned. I know this is all news to you as of five minutes ago. And I'll do my best to help I'm any way I can. Park Ji-hun believes that the jewelry pieces and cologne picked out for Taehyung will be best suited in two places. One, in the studio to highlight the jewelry and two, at the beach to create an atmosphere for the cologne."

"Makes sense, thank you for filling me in."

"Like I said, I'm going to do as much as I can to help. Jimin get over here and introduce yourself to __." He calls to the pink hair boy who's busy sorting through his makeup palettes.

"Park Jimin," he walks over to you and also shakes your hand. "Makeup artist. Jungkook's told me about you."

"Oh god," you slip out and everyone chuckles. "Do I need to go hide somewhere now?" Who knows what Jungkook's said about you. Looks like he really is trying to get cozy with as many people as he can here.

"No no," Jimin waves of your slight embarrassment. "He just said you're an acquaintance that's all." You want to believe him but the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth has you second-guessing.

It's not like Jungkook has a lot of beef with you or "secrets" to spill. He just had a big mouth, flirted with everyone in sight his first three months at the company and you happened to be his first target.

But no biggie. He's dating Park Ji-hun's daughter now, right?

"Love," it's Jimin's voice again. "Don't take this as any offense but I think you need a touch-up. Half your makeup's wiped from your face. Let me fix it for you okay?"

Well if you weren't embarrassed before you are now. Jimin's a professional make-up artist, surely his eyes are fine-tuned to the human face and pick up on make-up inconsistencies.

"Sure," you give in. "That'd be great."

Jimin walks over to his pile of make-up supplies and grabs a classic black eyeliner. "Close your lids," he tells you softly. He gently draws a wing over the lid that needs the most help and then, reaches for an eyeshadow that matches the other eye. "Okay, almost there. Just a few more brushes of this and you'll be good to go."

Though your eyes are closed you can easily distinguish the sound of a third voice.

"So you said yes huh?" Jungkook nears you and Jimin with a cheesy grin. "Now who's moving up in the world?"

"This is our first time working together Jeon," you reply. "Let's keep things professional shall we?"

"Oh please, you should be thanking me instead of giving me pointers on how our professional relationship should be." Jungkook snaps back and you stiffen at his words.

"Thank you? For what?"

"Namjoon didn't mention who exactly dropped your name as a potential candidate to clear up this little mess of ours? When Ji-hun told us he accidentally double-booked I immediately suggested you. I'm hurt you didn't know." He puts his hands over his heart as if pretending to be in pain.

"Wow, well you're right. I suppose I owe you my thanks." And here you thought people only looked out for themselves. Still, it's not like you and Jungkook are gunning for the same position. Him helping you doesn't exactly put him at a disadvantage.

You do feel more pressured to do well for this shoot though. Not only is it your first model shoot, and with all people, it happens to be with Kim Taehyung but it'll backfire on Jungkook if the photos you capture turn up bad. You don't want to imagine what that'll do to both of your professional credibility.

"Alright you're good as new love," Jimin pipes up. You open your eyes and mouth a thank you but you find the words turn into gibberish as the man of the hour finally rounds the corner of the studio.

"Monsieur," Hoseok is the first to greet Kim Taehyung as he enters the space. "Good to see you again."

"How are you Hobi?" Such an endearing nickname comes from a deep, honey voice. It charms your ears. Kim Taehyung stands straight with one hand in the pocket of his loose black slacks while the other rests near the edge of his matching black blazer. It's oversized with a basic, yet clean white t-shirt. Elegant yet, relaxed.

"Doing well, thank you. But I'm afraid you'll need to change out of these clothes soon. We have a perfect ensemble picked out that'll combine well with your style and the pieces you'll be showing off." Hoseok guides him towards the dressing rooms but as he does, your eyes catch Taehyung's.

"Monsieur," Jimin and Jungkook rush to his side at once when they see him looking over. "This is __." They gesture at you with a hand. "She'll be filling in for Park Ji-hun during the entirety of the shoot."

Taehyung's chocolate eyes study your features, your posture, and most of all your lack of movement as he waits for you to say something.

You bow realizing all you've been doing is staring at his flawless face. You've seen him on social media, posters, promo banners, everything, and anything but seeing him in person is not at all the same. "Monsieur," you greet. "It's a pleasure to meet you and to be working with you for the next two days. As the others have said, my name is __."

The man takes long, purposeful strides toward you. "I promise, the pleasure is all mine," he says with a hand moving to shake yours. His long, beautiful fingers wrap around your hand and pull you into a firm grip. "Thank you for stepping in for Ji-hun. And from now on, there's no need to be formal. You can call me Taehyung."

He then flashes you a smile that makes you begin to understand why the two assistants from earlier were so adamant on getting his attention; he's breathtakingly gorgeous. You feel yourself on the brink of a cold sweat at any moment.

"I insist everyone call me by my first name," he says. "I'm an easy man."

"But Mons–" you start but he quirks a brow at you in expectation to fulfill his request. "I understand."

"Do you model as well?" Taehyung asks casually after retracting his hand. "Sorry, I can't help but notice that you have a lovely bone structure. I like to paint in my spare time and sometimes I enjoy having live models as a reference."

The question takes you by surprise. Not many people bother to compliment your physical features expect maybe a few of your closest friends. "I don't model. I prefer being the one behind the creation, like how I'll be behind the camera with you."

He chuckles at your reply. "If you ever change your mind, I'd be happy to paint a portrait of you."

"Well thank you. I'm afraid I don't do nudes though." You really ought to shut your mouth sometimes. Of course, artists don't solely paint nude portraits. What are you saying?

The man in front of you ponders your choice of words for a few seconds too long then leans in towards your ear. Not so far that it's invasive but enough that you're the only one able to hear. "Again, if you ever change your mind....I'd be honored to paint you."

"Monsieur this is not appropriate to be saying."

"I'm not the one saying inappropriate things. I merely said I wanted to paint you as any artist would. You're the one that mentioned getting undressed."

Taehyung straightens himself back up and turns his whole body around. "Hobi," he shifts his attention to his stylist. "Show me what I need to wear today."

You're left standing with a baffled facial expression.

Kim Taehyung is the most elegant flirt and tease you've ever met.

After fifteen minutes Taehyung comes back to the studio in a shaggy grey button-down cardigan and plaid grey slacks. A gold chain necklace with a panther and tassle-like pendant hangs around his neck and on his left hand is a matching gold watch with a gold ring resting on his pointer finger.

They're all part of A&R's newest Panther collection and look nothing short of magnificent on him.

"We'll start with a few standing shots focusing on the ring and necklace separately," you say.

Taehyung nods in understanding and walks over to the studio setup that has a grey-ish purple green screen. Large studio lights hover on either side of the set to which Taehyung poses himself between.

He stands straight forward, eyes directly in line with the camera lens and jaw relaxed into a natural facial expression. It's a simple first pose to start off with but for a reason unexplainable Taehyung gives it new meaning.

It's takes you aback when you look at him through the lens of your camera. The closer you moves towards him to capture a clear shot, the more you're spooked by his intense eyes.

What makes it worse is when he decides to bring his pointer finger, the one with the ring, up to his mouth. His teeth latch gently around the gold band as it settles between his lips. You take several shots, adjusting the exposure on your camera as needed.

"Stunning," you hum in approval. Taehyung then slips the ring off his finger and again places it between his teeth. He tilts his head to the side to add to the flirtatious undertone of the pose.

"How was that?" He asks you after a few rapid flashes of the camera. "Thought I'd try something a little different this time."

"Came out perfect," you answer. "Flirty yet classically romantic. It molds well with our Panther campaign and brand. Suits you well too."

Taehyung's pleased by your words. "I'm glad you see it that way. I've always had a love for timeless themes. It's one of the reasons why I became an ambassador for Adrien & Rosamel. No other brand brings back the romantic past better."

"I agree with you completely. I fell in love with Adrien & Rosamel at a young age, around 13 I'd say. I always imagined myself to be largely integrated with the brand when I became an adult. Photography happened to help me get my foot in the door."

"Don't forget about me __," Jungkook interrupts from a couple feet away. "I got you this gig didn't I?"

Taehyung frowns at Jungkook's comment. "What does he mean?" He asks you. "Ji-hun specifically chose you to fill in for him didn't he?"

"Not exactly," you says with a flushed face. "Jungkook works closely with him and he was the one who recommended me to step in today. So I do owe him my life I suppose."

"You don't at all," Taehyung replied in a firmer tone than before. "He may have done you a favor but it's your talent that got you here. If your work wasn't good, do you think he'd take the risk of suggesting you?"

You stay silent as he continues.

"I've been in the industry for ten years, and no one lays their head on the line for you unless it benefits them in some way. Don't let him rob you of your achievements. And between you and me, I think he has an odd fixation on you." Taehyung lowers his voice. "Forgive me for being forward but he's not a jealous ex is he?"

You want to chuckle at the notion. "He's not, not at all." Taehyung laughs with you.

"So he's just a pain in the ass then," he says and you snort. "Had my share of them but not to worry. The best thing to do is to shake it off and in time, he'll realize everything you've gotten is by your own efforts and that you don't need his so called favors."

"Thank you Taehyung," you say, still a bit uneven as calling models like Taehyung was not what you were trained to do at Adrien & Rosamel. "We should probably move on with the shoot now."

"Sure, there's another pose I have in mind that I think will make the necklace stand out."

Taehyung steps away from you and turns around so his face is in front of the green screen. The cardigan he's wearing is cut to expose a large section of his back which allows pieces of the necklace to dangle against his smooth, bronze skin.

"What do you think? Does this fit the theme or does it look weird?" He rests one hand behind his head while the other raises above his head.

"Very artistic, hold the pose for me. Also, it's highly unlikely that you could ever look weird Taehyung." You focus the camera on the gold pendant. "You're a living and breathing aesthetic on your own."

"You know those are the same exact words I thought of when I mentioned wanting to paint you earlier. Seems like we see similarly don't we?"

"I guess we do, wow I never thought of myself as capable of having my own aesthetic. I feel like a carbon copy of everyone else some days." Once again you're stunned by his forwardness but you take it at face value. Perhaps he's naturally flirtatious even if he isn't meaning to be.

Taehyung looks over his shoulder at you and shakes his head in protest. "There's only one you __. You're not a carbon copy, so believe me when I say you're an aesthetic of your own as well. Which I would still like to get on canvas by the way."

"You're relentless about turning me into some kind of muse. I'm afraid I don't think I have the time, and neither do you now that I think of it. You fly back to Seoul after our shoot is over don't you?"

"I'm here for a couple of months actually," he surprises you with his reply. "Thought if I'm in Paris I might as well take some time to enjoy myself."

"That's fair. Now turn around again, I need to get a few more shots of the necklace."

"Your wish is my command." Taehyung faces away from you with a smile. He's decided he likes you. Maybe its a gift that Park Ji-hun couldn't do his photo session today.

"Do you want to know my favorite position?" Taehyung lays on his side with one hand supporting his head while the other clutches his elbow. The angle let's light from the softbox hit the gold watch perfectly, allowing it to be the star of the show; which is no easy task to achieve when it's Kim Taehyung who's modeling.

"No talking please," you respond, bending down on a knee in front for him. Your eye peeks through the camera lens to capture a good shot.

At your request, Taehyung does his best to remain silent but he can't help but notice your grip on the camera has gotten shakier. "Are you alright?" he asks with the tiniest smirk on his face. "Do you need a break? We've been going nonstop for nearly two hours now."

"Everything's fine Mon—"

"Taehyung," he interjects softly and slowly sits up from his position on the chaise lounge. "And here I thought we were starting to become comfortable with each other. Yet watching you struggle to hold that camera in place makes me feel bad. Let's pause for a few okay?"

You flush as he nears you, a tad embarrassed at the situation. You're a professional photographer which means you should be fully capable of moving forward with today's session without any breaks.

But you're palms are sweaty and all the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight from taking hours of close-up shots of the most handsome man on earth.

What's more, is that he keeps tossing out more flirty one-liners and finding ways to compliment you. And let's not forget your earlier exchange about the whole painting ordeal–wanting to put you on canvas and all.

No one warned you Kim Taehyung was going to be like this.

"What can I do to make you comfortable again, __?" He crouches directly in front of you with wisps of his honeyed locks dangling over his eyes. As he waits for your answer, the camera shutter clicks, getting a not-so-elegant close-up of his crotch.

Fuck. You didn't mean to take that.

"Too bad Hobi didn't give me a designer belt to wear. That would have made a great photo," Taehyung teases as he watches your fingers scrabble to delete the photo from your camera roll. "Imagine the kind of awards you'd win."

Oh god. You want to slap yourself awake now.

"Sorry," you rush to say anything at this point. "I think a break might be good after all."

"How about some fresh air? Last I knew it's a beautiful day out." Taehyung stands up and offers you a hand.

"You're offering to go out together?" You hesitate to put your hand in his at first but ultimately give in.

"Why not? It's up to you but I'd like to get some air in my lungs. Gets a little stuffy in here doesn't it?" Once he pulls you up he pulls his hand back. "Let's take a fifteen-minute break everyone," he calls to the rest of the team who nod and scatter in opposite directions.

"Fantastic." You hear Jimin talk to himself. "I've been needing to go to the bathroom for an hour already!" He scurries out of the studio as quick as his legs will carry him.

You and Taehyung find a quiet spot on the terrace above the company's enclosed garden. It's a recent edition the executives thought might give employees a small escape from the chaos of the day. And so far, it's been much appreciated. Being an unconventional hour to take a break, you're the only ones currently using the space.

"Can I ask you a question?" You cross your arms on the metal railing of the terrace and look at Taehyung beside you. He's standing calmly by the railing too with his hands in his pocket.

"Ask me anything," he replies.

"I haven't been in the fashion world nearly as long as you have but I know enough that people aren't as open as you are. You're much friendlier than most and I was wondering if you've always been that way. Even with Hoseok you call him Hobi, an endearing name."

He looks out into the distance at the perfectly trimmed bushes and trees, all square-shaped. "I became a model when I was 17. I hadn't even graduated high school yet when an agency recruited me. I thought it was a great opportunity until I saw the hunger for fame in my peer's eyes. Due to my appearance, I was given more chances to be on the cover of serious magazines like Vogue and Louis Vuitton but models who were there longer than me didn't. They were given shoots too but they were on a lower scale. Long story short they would scheme to get me in some kind of trouble so I'd get fired so they could take my place."

"I'm sorry that happened to you. I didn't want to believe that the industry was as vicious as I was told prior to entering it myself, but it is. So many of my coworkers can't wait to see someone fail so they can be promoted."

"It's a shame that it's like this __." Taehyung looks at you now, a serious expression on. "It doesn't have to be this aggressive cycle of stepping on the next guy to get to your ideal position. That's why I've decided to go against the current and make as many friends as I can. People I genuinely like tend to be my closest connections." His eyes soften at this as he scans your face.

"That's a nice sentiment but doesn't that open you up to being taken advantage of?" You think back to the two assistants from earlier this morning in the hallway. Seemingly friends on the surface but actually yanking on each other's hair below.

He shrugs and pushes a couple of loose strands of his hair behind his ear. "Sure it might but, I couldn't sleep peacefully knowing I earned my achievements by cheating everyone else out of theirs. Life's too difficult to not have a good night's sleep do you think?"

"True," you agree. "I wish more people had this sort of mindset."

"Well, luckily we can lead by example. I assume you run against the current too?"

"I try but I still have a lot of ambition so I can't say I've made any friends so far. Other than maybe Jungkook."

"Ambition is good, distinguishes the serious people from the non-serious. Friends aren't easy to make in our world __ and pardon me but that Jungkook guy isn't your friend. At most he probably has a crush on you."

"Jungkook has a crush on anyone with two legs and boobs," you chuckle and Taehyung does the same. "But he has a girlfriend now I think."

"Well, that's a relief." His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "I don't have to worry about him being a threat anymore."

You snicker at his comment. "What threat?"

Taehyung breaks into a shy grin and looks towards the ground. "Forget it, I'm just kidding around. We should head back inside. I think our time's about up." He moves to walk back inside the building but you stop him.

"Wait, no." You step closer to him. "I didn't get that joke."

He flickers his eyes up and down your body, taking in your curiosity. "You need me to spell it out for you __?" He pauses and takes a breath. "You're beautiful and I find myself extremely attracted to you. I'd–god forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable– I'd like to take you out while I'm still in Paris."

"Taehyung, that's....not a joke. Are you asking me on a date?"

"Yes, I'm asking you on a date. If you don't want to it's okay. Just say the word."

You smooth your hands down the side of your pants nervously. "Okay, what time and where?"

Taehyung's as shocked as you are by your response. "What are you doing tonight at 7 p.m?" he replies.

"Nothing, what are you doing?"

"Taking you out on a date I think. How's your dancing?"

"Oh I...I don't know. Depends on the type of dance. Why?" You know why. Of course, someone like Taehyung will want to take a slightly unconventional path for a first date.

"I want to take you to Le Duc des Lombards, you know that private jazz bar in town. So, if you can sway and don't mind being close to me we'll be in business."

"Alright." Don't overthink it, you think to yourself. It's just dancing. No biggie. "7 it is. I'll meet you there I guess."

"I can pick you up, actually, I'd really like to pick you up if I can. I know I'm such an old soul aren't I?"

"No problem," you can't contain your beaming smile. "We can exchange numbers and I'll text you my address."

"My phone's back in the studio. Let's do that before the end of the shoot."

"Shut the front door __!" Your best friend Elaine screams over the phone. "You're definitely wearing the sexy red dress I bought you for your birthday if you going to a jazz bar with, oh my god I can't even say his name. I'm so excited for you babe!"

"It's one date, Elaine. It'll probably not go anywhere either. I'm going into this as a fun night out with a very handsome man and that's all." You browse through your closet for something to wear. You've already showered and touched up your make-up. "Damn it, I have about twenty minutes before he gets here."

"I'm telling you __, wear the red one. Even if this will be a one-night thing it doesn't mean you can't look drop-dead gorgeous. Also, one more thing. What are you wearing for underwear?"

"Elaine!"

"What? If it were me I'd be looking as hot as I can tonight. Gives you a boost of confidence."

"Maybe," you say and pull out a black dress. "I'll think about it."

"Well think fast, because you're down to fifteen minutes now."

"Uh, shit." You toss the dress when you see there's a small tear in the strap. "Please tell me how I'm in the fashion industry and can't find anything to wear without holes in it."

"This is the last time I'm saying this __. Put on the red dress. It's more of a maroon so it'll make you blend with the mood of jazz but you'll pop out as well. And you'll look elegant with the silk sleeves and it's above the knee so you'll stay cool when you dance."

You card back the hangers until you get the dress Elaine is talking about. It's never been worn and it really is beautiful. "The neckline's kinda deep though," you say.

"You're boobs aren't gonna fall out if that's what you're worried about. I've seen the dress and it'll be great on your body. Plus, worst-case scenario you get laid by the hottest man in the damn universe."

"I'm not having sex with him you know..." you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. "This is a–"

"Fun night out. Yes babe, whatever you want to think." Elaine snickers over the phone.

"Fine, you win but I have to change now okay?" You set the phone down and start untying your robe. Are you wearing a transparent black lace set underneath? Yeah, but it's not like anyone's going to know about it.

"Don't forget to call me later! Or tomorrow depending on how tonight goes," she snickers again.

"Goodbye Elaine," you shake your head and end the call.

"You know what might look great with this dress is that ruby necklace I bought ages ago," you say to yourself. The necklace you're referring to is dainty yet never a let down no matter what you pair it with.

Satisfied, you head to your jewlery case in search for it.

"I see you found the place okay." You say once you hop into the passenger seat of Taehyung's Porsche. Man does well for himself.

"I did, and you look like a million dollars darling. Aphrodite herself couldn't even compare. I'm going to have the worst time trying not to stare at you tonight." Taehyung stands on the other side of your door and waits for your feet to be tucked in the vehicle before letting the door shut.

He insisted he come around and open it for you when he saw a glimpse of your figure walking towards his car.

"Darling?" you repeat inquisitively when he jumps in the drivers seat.

"Do you not like it? It's kinda old I know." Taehyung starts the car and puts the car in gear. He turns the wheel single-handedly and pulls out of your driveway.

There's something about seeing a man do this that always lights a fire inside you. Especially when said man is currently in a white, freshly pressed dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and dark grey dress pants.

"I like it," you say. "Darling. It fits the night well, since we're going go the jazz club. I like this look on you by the way."

Taehyung smiles at you briefly before focusing back on the road. The hand that rests on his knee shakes a little and his grip tightens on the wheel. "Hearing you compliment me makes me a little shy, sorry. But by the way, I like that ruby necklace you have on."

You smile and play with the chain. Always a hit.

The club is moderately crowded when you step foot in the building. The atmosphere is warm and inviting with the creme tones, bright white ceiling lights, and soft purple strobe lighting that shines from the stage. You and Taehyung are lucky to find a free table to claim on the end of the second row of seating.

"Have you been to Le Duc des Lombards before?" He asks, letting you take the inner seat.

"I came once but it was a long time ago when I was in college," you answer.

"Really?" Taehyung takes the seat next to you. "Where did you study?"

"Spéos photography school. A lot of wanna-be professional photographers attend there. I'm fortunate to be able to go."

"I'm glad you got to study there. I assume that's how you got a job with Adrien & Rosamel right?"

"It was definitely the main reason but," you sigh. "I did have some gracious references who help me get in, including Jungkook who went to the same school. As a videographer we were project partners a few times so he was a good person of contact. Along with a few professors of course."

Taehyung snatches the bar menu placed at your table, more aggressively than expected. "No offense but I'm really starting to not like that guy," he grits, jaw clenching. "From now on you can put me down for any further references. The photos you took look wonderful and you know I have some solid connections with some very important individuals."

"Taehyung..." You're amused by the peek of jealousy. "Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself? The photos need to be approved by our campaign managers first before any merit is given. Plus, you're not my boyfriend."

"Could be your boyfriend," he quips back and you whip your head in his direction.

"Hm?"

"Hm what? You heard me."

"I thought you said you were shy tonight," you accuse and lean over his shoulder to scan over the drink menu with him. When you do you get a strong whiff of his cologne. God, you love the smell of cologne. Would it be too far for you to grab him by the shirt collar and throw your face into his chest?

Yes __, too far. Don't do that. You waive off the thought.

"What do you want from the bar?" Taehyung asks and you give him your response. He heads for the bar in the back of the room as soon as you tell him, not even giving you any time to grab your wallet.

"Tae–" you jump up from you seat. "You don't have to pay for me. I can get my own."

"As my date, I'd be my honor to buy a drink for you __. But you can keep calling me Tae, it sounds nice coming from your lips." He turns around and continues to the bar.

Nearly two hours of live jazz music later and a few drinks later, you find yourself in a pair of long, sturdy arms. One of Taehyung's hands curls around your waist while the other laces in your fingers.

"You sway well," he drawls, pulling you closer to his body. I'd make you squirm more than you already are if it weren't for a bit of liquor in your system. "In fact, you're a natural. Makes me wonder what other areas you have a natural talent for."

"Okay monsieur," you playfully joke and continue to let him dance you in small circles. "We're getting a little close to the hot zone now."

"Are we? Must be because you're so unbearably hot. Did I tell you to look like Aphrodite in this dress?" Taehyung slips his hand from your waist. "Can I spin you?"

You nod and distance your body from his to prepare to spin into him. "If my memory serves right, you told me Aphrodite couldn't compare to me. Not that I look like her," you respond to his prior question.

"Ah that's right," he hums. "That's even better."

Taehyung's slender arms wrap around your waist when you get to the end of your twirls. Your back presses tight against his chest as he brings his lips near your ear. "You remember when I asked you if you wanted to know my favorite position? Well, this is one of them, darling."

Your breaths get shorter as you take in his charm and you're forced to look into the crowd of people in front of you. Most are busy dancing with their own partners but a few stragglers smile in your direction.

"You make a lovely couple," one older woman says to you both. "You'll make beautiful children."

"Oh we're not–"

"Yes, we will. Thank you, madame," Taehyung cuts in and you pull yourself from his hold to face him.

"Tae, what the hell are you saying?" His face sculpted from the gods themselves stares down at you in a devilish smirk.

"Is it too hot now?" He teases as he refers to your comment minutes ago about it getting too close to the hot zone.

"You're drunk aren't you?" You gently accuse with your arms crossing over your chest.

"I'm not." He snakes his arms back around you smoothly. "I have to drive you home tonight. What kind of man would I be if I got drunk?"

You let him pull you into himself again and this time when he does you feel the outline of an erection forming in his trousers.

Fuck, you curse to yourself, he's not small that's for damn sure.

"How are you feeling __? Getting tired or you wanna stay longer?"

You smirk. "I should be asking you that seeing you have a situation down there."

"Shit—" he quickly retracts his hands on your waist and backs away from you. "I'm sorry, I know we've been flirting around but I don't want to you to think that's all I'm here for."

"Its okay Taehyung, it's just a biological response," you try to soothe. "Don't worry about it."

"Yeah but it's because of you," he stresses. "I want you to know that I'm into you romantically and not just horny with lust."

Your heart clenches and your feet move to approach him on their own. You cup his cheeks with your hands and stare deep into his coffee-black eyes. "Taehyung, I've had my share of male suitors who have all been horny with lust and nothing else. I never thought for a second you were one of them okay? Plus, you're not the only one worked up tonight." You bite your cheek, unsure what'll come from admitting to the following.

"I like you too Taehyung," you finish.

"You do?" He asks with stars in his eyes, same blinding smile as usual.

You nod in affirmation.

"Is this the part where I get to kiss you?" His lids relax as he waits for your response.

"I suppose you can. Are you a good kisser?"

Taehyung snorts lightly and surprises you with a quick peck to your lips. But when he tilts his head back to look you in the eye again, you pull his face back to yours and press your lips fully on his.

Taehyung finds your waist with his fingers again the longer and deeper the kiss gets. He moves his soft lips on yours firmly then sucks on your bottom lip until his tongue is granted access into your mouth.

"Tae," you moan his name quietly. "People are starting to stare."

"And?"

You reluctantly break the kiss. "We should probably finish this in the car."

"I'd much rather have you finish in my bed though," he says before thinking it through. "Shit—sorry I did it again."

Taehyung's lips move against yours roughly as he makes out with you in the back seat. You decided I'd be easier to kiss without the center console getting in the way.

"You know I don't like putting out on the first date but...how long until you have to return to Seoul?" You tug his blonde hair as his hands wander up and down your torso.

"Two months," he replies, slightly pained. "That's actually something we should talk about if this is going where I think it is."

"Do you not do long distance relationships?"

"I don't know." He brings his lips to the side of your neck, sucking on the delicate skin. "I've never done it before. Have you?"

You shake you head. "No but I heard it's not easy."

Taehyung moves away from your neck to take your hands in his and presses a kiss to them. "I guess we have a few choices then. One, we stop here and sum it up to a nice evening out where I got to steal a kiss the most beautiful woman. I might cry myself to sleep later," he jokes but you wouldn't out it completely past him.

"Two, we make the best of it while I'm here. I'll take you out every night possible until I have to leave. We call it a temporary relationship of sorts. Or my personal favorite, we date with intent and I'll visit you every chance I get. I'll even relocate if necessary."

"God Taehyung, I don't even know. How can you decide so soon?"

"The moving part was too much, I know. I just meant that I want to be serious. Or at least give it a shot. But if that's something that doesn't work for you then we should probably stop here."

"I want to go out again though. I don't want to stop."

"So what?"

"Call me crazy but let's be serious. You're an adult, I'm an adult. Let's fucking do this." You go to kiss him again but he doesn't let you.

"Wait, __. You sure you want to go through with this?"

"I know there's a lot of grey areas to consider but I'd hate to miss out on something amazing because of a potential threat. We go out and if it works out well, then maybe...one of us can relocate. And if it doesn't then we gave it our best."

"Alright," he slowly leans his face towards you again. "If you're on board then I am too. Since we're doing it this way....do you want me to take you home?"

You shake your head in rejection. "Take me to your bed Taehyung."

"Just when I thought you couldn't get more beautiful you always make a fool out of me."

Taehyung traces down the curves of your body with cool hands as you stand in front of him in nothing but your black lingerie on. He's asked that your ruby necklace stay on too which did throw you off guard a tad.

His shirt is off himself, revealing his lean, tanned torso. His pants are off as well, showing off his his muscular thighs. No wonder he's one of the most wanted models in the world.

He's absolutely breathtaking.

"Is this designer?" He asks and you nod. "Of course, only the finest lace should be allowed to touch your body." Slender fingers dance across the cups of your bra, feeling the fabric carefully. He's not gropping at all.

"You're a flatterer aren't you?" You look him in the eye and your heart skips a beat. He's staring back at you with a similar intensity as the shoot earlier. Just like a panther, you think —alluring, dangerous, and incapable of escaping.

"Not flattering darling. Admiring," he responds lowly. "Can I remove it?" He leans forward to reach behind your back and graze across the hooks of the bra. His lips press a kiss to the space just below your ear as he does.

"Y-yes, please do," your voice hitches.

Taehyung unfastens the material from your body and you shake it off your arms and let it fall on the floor.

"Fuck," he swears and nibbles the edge of your ear while he palms your bare breasts. He thumbs at your nipples a little until their pebbling to his satisfaction. "Are you sure I can't make you my muse for my next painting?"

You chuckle and let him mouth at one of your breasts. "Maybe in time—oh god that feels good," you moan his tongue licks across you nipple.

"In time? Seems we've made some progress. You gave me a flat out no this morning." Taehyung lowers himself on his knee and presses a kiss to your bare waist. Its gentle and featherlike. He then fiddles with the edge of your lace panties as he did with your bra.

"That's because we were strangers, coworkers. However you want to call it."

"Mm, you have a point. May I?" He asks for permission and you nod with a small whine. His fingers brushing around your hips, nearing your ass only hightens your arousal.

Once he drags the thin material down your legs you step out of them and kick them to the side. Taehyung groans deeply when your center is exposed to him.

"Gods I want to lick this pussy so much. Will you let me eat you out tonight?"

"Fuck Tae," you card through his blonde hair. "Yes."

"Lets get you on my bed," he grunts, getting up from his kneeled position. He leads you to the edge of his bed where you crawl on top of his rich comforter, ass in full view as he follows behind you.

Once you're settled on your back Taehyung pushes your legs up and spreads your thighs wide open. He then crouches between them and kisses you inner thighs.

"You're very wet down here," he mumbles. "Do you want fingers first?"

"Three please," you request, already clawing at the sheets.

"Three?" Taehyung lifts his head to look at you. "You're certain you want to start with three?"

You chuckle. "I have the feeling that I'm going to need to take at least three fingers and your tongue before I can take your cock wholely. Correct me if I'm wrong."

He smirks and brings a slender finger up your slit. "No, you couldn't be more right." He pushes the finger all the way in, sinking between your velvety walls.

"Ohh," you moan.

Taehyung adds another, pumping and curling both fingers before adding the third. "So wet baby, do you hear yourself?"

The squelching sound of his fingers working in your pussy causes your core to clench and a streak of pearly white liquid to run down your thigh. Taehyung grows feral at the sight and starts pumping into you at a faster pace.

"Goddamn you're a sensitive one. When's the last time you were fingered?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. Probably two years ago?"

"Well allow me to reacquaint you with such pleasure."

Taehyung continues to work in your pussy with his fingers, hitting your g-spot with every push and curl. Strings of profanities leave your mouth as he does this and when he licks his tongue over your folds you scream in pleasure.

"Fuck Tae, don't stop! So good, oh my god," you moan and sink your fingers in his hair.

He doesn't stop at all, he doesn't slow down either. His fingers eventually pull out of you after a dozen more pumps to make room for his tongue to dip in your pussy. He teases your clit too which is all you needed to send you over the edge.

"I'm coming Tae," you say as your come on his tongue. He groans at the act and cleans up as much left over spillage as he can before moving away from your center.

"I love the way you taste," he licks the corner of his lips and makes his way up your body until he's hovering over your face. Taehyung presses a hard kiss to your lips after with traces of your come still on his tongue.

"Don't you agree?" He asks when he gives you a breath.

"I think I'd prefer the taste of something else instead," you respond with eyes flickering to his crotch.

He smirks and brings a hand up to graze the ruby necklace that's still around your neck. "You want my cock in your mouth baby? Wanna suck on it nice and firm between those pretty lips?"

"I do. Want to make you feel good too and taste your come."

"Mm," he groans. "Don't temp me darling. I'd really much rather come in your tight pussy."

"In a condom," you remind him.

"Yes of course, but still, in your pussy," he replies. "But who am I to deny you of what you want. Pick one, in your mouth or in your cunt?"

Your pussy clenches at his casualness. "Do I have to pick just one?"

"Fucking hell," he seethes. "You're a little greedy for our first time together aren't you?"

"ijuswansucuok."

"What?"

"I just want to suck your cock," you repeat. "But if I had to choose I want you to fuck me."

Taehyung gets off the bed hearing your words and sticks his thumbs in his briefs. "I'll tell you what," he pushes his underwear down to let his cock bounce free. It's huge, vein tracing up the underside, and leaking with pre-cum at the tip.

"I'll let you suck me off any other time because as you can see, I'm inches away from blowing my load already. But to make up for it, I'll let you have your pick of any position you want."

Your eyes train on his throbbing length as he crawls back to you on the bed. You know you should control yourself but you can't help but reach out and touch it.

"Oh fuuck," he clenches his teeth as your hand tightens around him. Your thumb traces his slit, rubbing circles on it. "God your fingers feel heavenly on me. But I need you to stop and tell me what position you want to be in, please."

"Doggy and can you make me squirt?"

"Yes fuck," he moans as you keep teasing his slit. "Face the headboard and get on your hands and knees."

You do as as he says and thank god you did because he was seconds away from thrusting up in your hand. Taehyung grabs a condom from the drawer by his nightstand and rips it open with his teeth. He then rolls it down his think length until he completely covered.

"Ready?" He asks you.

"Put it in me Tae. Need you inside me, please."

"I'm going to ease in alright? I'm pretty fucking big and I don't want to hurt you." At that he clamps his hands around your waist and starts nudging his cock into your entrance.

"Oh fuck—" you screw your eyes shut at the stretch. So good but he's right, he's too big. You don't know how he's going to fit himself all the way in you.

"Keep breathing darling and relax your muscles. We're taking this really slow until I can bottom out."

You do as he says as he continues to sink his length into you. "Taehyung, Taehyung fuck it feel so good but god you're a beast."

"I know and you're doing so good for me," he coos. "We're about halfway there. You're pussy feels amazing around me. Still wet with your come."

You grip the mattress and let out moan after moan. "You're only half-way in me? God I feel like I'm being split in half."

Taehyung pulls himself out of you then thrusts back in, gently but firm enough to jolt your whole body forward. He repeats the motion with each thrust going deeper than the last.

"Shit!" He groans as he beats himself into you. "So close baby. I'm almost all the way in."

"Taehyungtaehyungtaehyung," is the only word coming from you. All you feel is pleasure as he thrusts himself into you. It's been so long since you felt this good, and who the hell would have guessed it'd be Kim Taehyung to remind you of such feelings.

"There we go," he grunts as he finally, finally bottoms out. "There we fucking go baby, how are you feeling?" He asks as he picks up his pace.

"Fuck me—harder Tae," your moans are incoherent as your whole body to Taehyung.

The next ten minutes are nothing but skin slapping against skin as his cock beats inside of you, desperately working you up to another orgasm.

"Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck," Taehyung pulls himself all the way back then snaps his hips back in, making you dizzy with arousal. "Look at you taking my big cock all at once. Just so eager to please huh? Like the way I fill you up?"

"Yes, yes I do," you pant, sweat dripping from your forehead. If you looked over your shoulder you'd see Taehyung doing the same. "I'm getting close Tae!"

"Go ahead and play with your clit for me then," he growls. "You must be so sore down there."

You quickly reach a hand down to your clit, circling it while Taehyung thrusts himself into you wholeheartedly. "Oh god, I'm almost there. I feel it Tae," you moan as the cord inside you gets tighter, threatening to break any second.

"Go on, coat my cock with your slick darling. Show me how good I'm making you feel as I rearrange your guts. You feel it deep in your stomach can't you? Fuck, I'm close myself!"

You grind your hips on his cock a few times and with that you reach your high, releasing all over Taehyung. But despite your second orgasm, his cock keeps thrusting into you.

"Can you give me one more? Need to make you squirt."

"Uh I don't know Tae, I'm not sure if I can c-come again."

"Yes you can and you will." He fucks into as hard as he can at that, no other words come from him other than deep groans. You on the other hand can't stop screaming.

"Too much Taehyung, I can't, please, need you to come. Fuck!" Despite your protest you are indeed close to a other orgasm; the third one of the night. You pussy uncontrollably clenches around Taehyung as his cock starts twitching inside you.

"Just a little more darling, getting so close. Gonna make you feel so good," he promises as his thrusts get sloppier.

"You already made me feel good Tae, want you to come too."

"I am," he replies, finally releasing. "Oh shit!"

"What? What is it?"

"You're squirting baby. Making a mess all over me and my thousand dollar sheets."

"Oh god, I'm so sorry-fuck. I'll replace them!"

"Like hell you will," he pulls out of you, ties his condom off and tosses in the trash next to his bed. He then flips you on your back and captures your lips roughly. "These sheets are mine and they'll stay mine just like you will from now on. As long as I can help it at least. Sound good?"

"Okay Taehyung," you nod. "Yours."

"Good, now how does a bath sound?"

"Fantastic," you exhale and close your eyes.

"Taehyung, Taehyung wake up." You shake the man by the shoulders next to you with both hands. "Get up get up get up!"

"What's the emergency?" He rubs his tired eyes as you move to leap up from the bed. You have the sheets wrapped tight around your body.

"We have a shoot at the beach with the team in half an hour! Hurry up and put your clothes on, you have to drive me back to my house so I can change into proper clothing."

"Why don't you wear one of my shirts or something?" He yanks your wrist towards him until you're forced to loosen your grip on his sheets and are forced atop his chest.

"Seriously? Why don't we just tell them we slept together at that point? You're crazy Kim Taehyung."

"You're making it sound like we had a one night stand," he pouts for the first time and you chuckle at how cute he looks.

"Of course it's not that Tae, it's just we still work together. We can't have them knowing we have a thing this early."

"Can we at least tell Jungkook?"

"No!" You playfully slap his shoulder. "Stop being so obsessed with him. He's got a girlfriend. Now get up, we really need to go."

"Alright, but give me a kiss first." He puckers up his lips and you concede by pressing your lips to his. "Are you a morning sex person?" He asks.

"No, we need to leave." You hop out of the bed and race to his bathroom.

"Goddamn it," he curses by himself. "Day one of being your girlfriend and she's already leaving you high and dry."

Taehyung throws the covers off his naked body and walks to the bathroom to join you in the shower—nothing but a big, happy grin on his face.

a/n: oh my gosh guys, this took me a long time. But I hope you enjoyed and lmk what you think 💞☺

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[latriii]

( 尤も ) NATURAL — riki nishimura ᯽

━━━━ It was natural to call you pretty, it was natural to approach you, it was natural to confess to you, and it was natural to like you. Sadly for Nishimura Riki, his liking for you was meant from afar. Riki had seen you at the volleyball court during the first day of hybe sport summer camp, since then— he developed a huge crush on you, word spread that a huge amount of people have.

━━━━ What happens when riki creates a plan trying to approach you in the most ‘natural’ way possible ..?

GENRE ➤ STRANGERS to LOVERS, fluff, summer camp au, social media au with a lot of writing

━━━ PAIRING ➤ riki nishimura x f!reader

WARNINGS ➤ profanity (cursing), my humor, kys jokes, tba! — JOONIE of ICHILLIN’ as YN

NOTE ➤ THIS IS ALL FICITIONAL, feel free to send ASKs to talk about this smau with me! i love answering them :) — this was inspired by the song, NATURAL by gsoul

STATUS ➤ completed! TAGLIST is CLOSED!

NOTICE ➤ please DO NOT spam like, it will shadowban me!

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