This Is Me!

This is me!

Sappho, from If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho; tr. by Anne Carson

The holiday pretense -3-

Summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air. Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend. But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request. Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: fake-dating, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact Warnings: every single trope in the book; but with a twist. Dialogue heavy. OC is really bad at lying. Things are slowly starting to unravel. Drinking and a drunken kiss Smut warnings: morning wood, hickeys. Word count: Chapter 3- 17k Credits: You already know @callmenoona25, is the reason I got back on track with this story. But what you may not know is the fact that she is also incredibly smart and creative, and brainstorming with her is one of the best things that could have happened to me✨ thank you for all your patience and help. Author's note: uh... so, the plan was to have this story completed by new years eve. funny how that worked out huh... but don't worry, we are closing in on the ending. Where we are standing now, there are just 2 more chapters to come. Because, lets be honest, how much more can these guys take?? part 1: here, part 2: here.

Oh, also, would anyone be interested in being added to a permanent tag list? I keep toying with the idea of making one, so if you're interested, hmu ig?

current tag lol @uniquetravelerone

Anyway. Merry Christmas?

You stirred tiredly, frowning at the sliver of light that had somehow managed to sneak through the only crack in the curtains and land directly in your eyes. It pulled you from your slumber far earlier than you deemed acceptable. With a soft groan, you tried to turn away, seeking solace from the intrusion—only to be stopped by a solid body pressed against you.

Namjoon’s arm was draped securely over your stomach, his hand having somehow wandered beneath your shirt during the night. The casual intimacy of the gesture jolted your groggy brain into overdrive, the last remnants of sleep dissolving in an instant.

You shifted again, this time cautiously, trying to gauge your situation, but the movement elicited a soft, low moan from Namjoon.

That’s when you felt it—his erection, firm and unmistakable, pressing against your ass. Your breath hitched instantly, the realization flooding through you in waves.

The warmth of his body pressed closely against yours, your legs tangled together, and the weight of his arm draped possessively over you made your heart pound violently against your ribcage. His hand, impossibly warm, splayed against your stomach, sending sparks of electricity skittering across your skin.

You bit your lip, utterly unsure of how to navigate the situation you found yourself in. Just as you began to plot your escape—or at least a way to breathe through the moment—Namjoon let out another sleepy sound, a low, gravelly hum that vibrated against your back. He shifted slightly, adjusting his hips, and with that movement, pressing his cock more firmly against your ass.

Heat surged to your cheeks, a wave of nervousness mingling with an undeniable spark of desire. Damn. He was big. You’ve always suspected as much, but now you knew.

And knowing only made the moment harder to ignore.

“Namjoon,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

At the sound of his name, he stirred slightly, the grip on your waist tightening for a fleeting moment before he relaxed again. A sleepy mumble escaping his lips— something unintelligible, but the low timbre of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. You tried again, a little louder this time, but still soft enough not to startle him.

“Namjoon,” you repeated your heart thundering in your chest.

His response was a groggy grunt, and then, to your utter dismay—and maybe a little delight—he nuzzled his face against the back of your neck, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin.

Your face heat up even more at his senseless sleepy affection, and you struggled to cope with the current predicament that seemed to dawn only on you.

“Morning…” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

“Uh, morning,” you managed to stammer, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sharp rise in your pulse. You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or combust on the spot.

Namjoon didn’t seem fully awake yet, his hold on you tightening slightly as he murmured something that sounded like ‘gimme five more minutes’ against your shoulder. You placed your hand over his, gently trying to pry it off your stomach, but the action only made him tighten his hold and let out a contented sigh.

This was supposed to be simple. You’ve done this before—cuddled up during movie nights, casual and comfortable— but never has his hand wandered beneath your shirt, never before did you get to feel him quite like you were right now.

You were hyper-aware of every single point of contact, the heat of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the very… noticeable evidence of his arousal still pressing insistently against you.

You struggled, torn between waking him fully or hoping he might shift away on his own.

But after a few seconds, seeing that he made absolutely no move to let you go, you ventured awkwardly.

“Are you…comfortable?”

He hummed softly, his fingers brushing absentmindedly against your stomach. “Mmh…yeah,” he muttered, still half-asleep.

Then, as if realization hit him like an avalanche, his body tensed.

“Fuck-” His arm jerked away as if he’d been burned, and he rolled onto his back with a groan, the sudden movement pulling the blanket askew. A rush of cold air immediately slipped under the blanket, biting at your skin and making you instantly regret every choice you made that led to this moment.

“My god.” He muttered, dragging a hand over his red face. “I-I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” you said quickly, trying to ease the tension, your own face burning. “You were asleep, it happens.”

Namjoon let out a nervous laugh, still covering his face. “No, no, it’s not okay! I-I didn’t mean to…”

“Really, it’s fine,” you reassured, trying to lighten the mood despite your racing heart. “It’s quite normal for men your age, right? Means you’re healthy and everything’s-”

“Oh my god, please stop talking.” Namjoon groaned, dragging both hands down his face as if that would somehow erase him from existence.

“What? It’s true! It’s just biology. Natural instinct-”

“Please stop,” he interrupted, peeking at you from between his fingers, his ears now the colour of ripe tomatoes. “You’re not helping.”

“Okay, okay,” you relented, biting your lip to stifle the awkward laughter threatening to spill out. You turned your gaze to the ceiling, willing your own embarrassment to disappear, though the heat on your cheeks lingered stubbornly.

The two of you stayed quiet, the silence stretching long enough for the rhythmic sound of Namjoon’s breathing to steady and blend seamlessly with your own. The stillness should have been calming, but instead, it magnified the wild thrum of your pulse in your ears, a constant reminder of just how awkward this was.

You waited, hoping your heart would slow, that the tension coiling in your chest would dissipate. But the longer the silence stretched, the heavier it felt, like a fragile thread about to snap.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you cleared your throat softly.

“Seriously, though,” you said gently, “It’s fine. I’m not mad or anything.”

Namjoon let out a sharp exhale, finally dropping his hands to look over at you, his expression hovering somewhere between mortification and gratitude.

“You’re way too calm about this,” he said, shaking his head slightly, his voice still carrying the remnants of self-consciousness.

“Yeah, well,” you started, struggling to inject some nonchalance in your tone. “One of us has to be.”

A small, self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips as he sat up, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Never!” you shot back with a grin, finally feeling the strange strain between you start to give.

“Great,” he muttered, shooting you a playful glare before pushing himself to his feet. With his back to you, he stretched lazily, his broad shoulders flexing with the movement.

“I’ll take a cold shower first, though, if you don’t mind.” He added, his voice carrying bit of nonchalance and amusement as he glanced over his shoulder at you.

You could only watch as he walked out of the room, his broad shoulders and confident stride disappearing through the doorway.

The moment he was out of sight, you let out a long, muffled groan, flopping back on the bed and burying your face in the pillow.

A swirl of emotions crashed over you —embarrassment, amusement, a flicker of regret, longing and something dangerously close to arousal. It was all too unsettling to fully acknowledge, leaving you in a confusing storm of emotions, their weight pressing down on you as heavily as his arm had mere moments ago.

The warmth of his presence lingered in the room, stubborn and inescapable. It clung to you, refusing to fade, making it impossible for your heart to actually slow down.

Get a grip, you told yourself. This doesn’t mean anything. It was an accident. A biological response. Nothing more.

The sound of the shower starting up jolted you out from your thoughts. You turned your head towards the closed bathroom door, watching as a faint curl of steam began to escape from beneath it.

Stop thinking about it, you scolded yourself, but the image refused to leave. Namjoon under the spray of cold water, his head tipped back, rivulets of water streaming down his toned back… the thought send a fresh wave of warmth to your cheeks, and you buried your face in your hands.

No! Not this again. Saying the words out loud might not help, but you muttered them under your breath anyway, as if sheer force of will could be enough to break the cycle. You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes. Focus on something else. Fast.

But it was already too late. Your mind had betrayed you.

The moment from earlier replayed in vivid, torturous detail—the solid weight of his arm draped over you, his body pressed so closely against yours, the warmth of his hand resting so casually beneath your shirt. And then—as if your brain was determined to sabotage you further—the undeniable sensation of his cock, firm and insistent against you…

It all made it too easy for your mind to conjure images of him now, under the stream of water— each drop of water tracing its path down the expanse of his trim chest, the sharp lines of his collarbone, the defined strength in his thighs. Good god, his thighs.

And his shoulders, broad and commanding, perfect for digging your nails into. The curve of his arms, strong enough to hold you steady or pull you closer, each movement carrying that quiet confidence you couldn’t help but admire

You groaned again, louder this time, pressing your hands harder against your face as though you could scrub away the onslaught of thoughts. But the images lingered, refusing to simply be dismissed.

You haven’t felt this way since the early stages of your friendship, back when you harboured that stupid, fleeting crush.

Frustration bubbled to the surface—at yourself, at your stupidly overactive imagination, at the fact that none of this should even matter.

You were supposed to be pretending. Just pretending. So why the hell did it suddenly feel so real?

Why did he make you feel this way? His small, casual gestures—the brush of his hand against yours, the quiet laughter, even the soft mumbling in his sleep—were no longer just innocent moments. They were charged, electrifying, leaving you breathless and unsteady.

And the way he held you close when in public, the warmth and ease of it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His genuine compliments that seemed to see straight through you. The way his gaze lingered, soft and intent, like you were the only person in the room. It was all maddening.

Unfamiliar.

Overwhelming.

Completely messing with your head.

The sound of water running in the background didn’t help. Because now you suddenly wondered if he was just standing there, letting the cold-water wash away the awkwardness, or if his thoughts were just as mangled as yours. Was he even thinking about you?

God, was he touching himself? He must, after all—

Stop it! You shook your head again, forcing yourself to breathe deeply.

This was Namjoon. The same Namjoon you’ve known for so long, your friend. Not someone who had any business making your heart pound like this or set your skin alight with a simple look your way.

This was the same Namjoon who forgot to take store receipts and napkins out of his jeans before tossing them the washer. The same Namjoon who broke a mug without even realizing it, too distracted by a conversation to notice the mess he made across the carpet.

The same Namjoon who tripped over his own shoelaces, then laughed about it like an adorable dork instead of getting embarrassed.

The sound of the water shutting off abruptly jolted you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you could hear him moving around in the bathroom. Your heart picking up again at the realization that maybe you weren’t that ready to face him again. You shut your eyes tight, willing yourself to calm down. Act normal. Nothing weird happened.

The door creaked open, and the fresh, earthy scent of his Cool Water shower gel wafted into the room. It hit you like a wave, freezing you in place as if your body had decided to betray you entirely.

Namjoon stepped out, his damp hair tousled messily, droplets still clinging to the strands and sliding down his neck. A loose t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, the fabric soft and slightly damp, hinting at the toned frame beneath. Grey sweatpants rested low on his hips, completing the picture with an ease that felt unfair.

Your cheeks burned as a clear, unwelcome image flickered through your mind: your lips dragging along his damp skin, leaving a slow, heated path cross his neck, down his chest...

You’re hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. You need to move out.

Namjoon walked over; his footsteps soft but deliberate. And before you could fully compose yourself, he leaned over your body to retrieve his phone from the nightstand.

The sudden closeness was dizzying, and he seemed completely oblivious to your internal meltdown. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, and the clean, minty scent of his toothpaste rendered you nearly catatonic.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low, almost too casual, his gaze meeting yours.

“Yeah, yeah. Just... why are you still soaked?” you blurted, scrambling for any topic to defuse the tension threatening to suffocate you.

He glanced down at his damp shirt with a lopsided smile. “Didn’t feel like drying off properly. Why? Is it bothering you?”

Was it? Absolutely. But not for the reason he thought.

“It’s the middle of winter, Namjoon. You’ll catch a cold,” you shot back, your voice laced with feigned exasperations, hoping it masked the warmth creeping up your neck.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, the barest flicker of amusement crossing his face as if he was holding back a smirk. “If you say so.” His tone was maddeningly calm, laced with a playful edge that made your stomach flip.

“I didn’t know you cared that much about me,” he added, his voice low, teasing and entirely too smug for your liking.

You opened your mouth to retort, but your brain short-circuited under the weight of his gaze—soft, warm, and far too knowing. It was as if he could see right through your attempt at deflection, straight into the chaos swirling beneath the surface.

“Someone has to,” you managed, crossing your arms in a last-ditch effort to look unaffected.

Namjoon didn’t move right away. He stayed above you for moment longer, his gaze fixed on your face, studying you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. The intensity of it made your cheeks heat again, through you tried your best to not show it.

Finally, he stepped back with a shrug, breaking the tension like a twig. “I’ll go make us some coffee,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket as he turned toward the door.

You exhaled shakily the moment he disappeared from view, your body sinking into the mattress, and you pressed a hand to your heart in a futile attempt to calm your racing heart.

Why did every interaction with him feel like a minefield these days?

But the warmth he’d left behind refused to dissipate, nestling deep in the space between your ribs, even as you stepped into the bathroom. Turning the water to its coldest setting, you braced yourself, hoping the icy spray could maybe douse the fire he’d unknowingly ignited within you.

Goddamn it! You were an adult, perfectly capable of rationalizing your feelings. And logically, there was no reason to feel anything in particular about Namjoon.

Sure, he was effortlessly charming when he flirted, his sharp mind and quick wit made it hard not to admire him. And yes, the way his eyes seemed to burn into you, holding your gaze a little too long, was hard to ignore. But that was part of the act—part of the pretense.

And yet, there was something undeniably intoxicating about being on the receiving end of his affection, even if it was just for show. You’ve always secretly wondered what it would be like to be one of the women he pursued—those brilliant, breathtaking women who had him wrapped around their fingers. The ones who inspired grand, romantic gestures from him, the kind that left him stuttering and unsure in a way so unlike his usual self.

But that wasn’t you. It wasn’t then, and it certainly isn’t now.

You were here just to help him get through the holidays, nothing less, nothing more. The plan was already laid out, perfectly planned, and you couldn’t afford to let this mess with your head now.

Two days. That’s all you had left. And after that? Things would go back to normal.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Even though a small part of you wondered if that was even possible anymore.

You weren’t sure if you could go back to being just friends after this. Not when your heart was starting to stake its claim, not when every interaction felt charged with something you didn’t dare name. You’d gotten so used to the feeling of butterflies every time he was near. So much so that the idea of casually brushing against him, of not leaning into him like it was second nature, now seemed like punishment.

The holidays were meant to be temporary, a brief interlude where you could play pretend and then walk away unscathed. But the closer you got to the end of the week, the more you realized that this wasn’t something you could simply walk away from.

You were toeing the edge, willing to risk everything you’d worked so hard to bury in the past few years.

Sure, there had been moments when the lines blurred, but those were fleeting, right?

Like that little jealous outburst at the bakery… God why did you do that?

The weight of your emotions were suffocating, pressing against your chest like an anchor, dragging you further into uncertainty. Each rational thought told you to pull back, to maintain the boundaries that had kept your friendship safe and intact for years. But all those same boundaries now felt paper-thin, stretched to their limits under the strain of what this holiday had brought to the surface.

You had come so far in keeping your distance, convincing yourself that you were fine just being his friend, his roommate—just a temporary solution for the week.

But now…now it all felt like you were playing a dangerous game.

And it wasn’t just the casual touches or fleeting glances that unravelled you. It was all those quiet moments in between—when no one was watching, when it was just the two of you, and he looked at you as if you mattered in a way that went beyond pretense. It was in the way he held you so tightly at night. In the way he sought you out in a room full of people, his gaze always searching for yours, making sure you are comfortable, as if you were his anchor, too.

And that is what made this dangerous.

Namjoon had a way of making everything feel real, even the things that were supposed to be pretend.

Every part of you wanted to scream at yourself to stop, to push him away and hold on to the semblance of normalcy you’d worked so hard to maintain. Yet, with every passing moment, you felt that distance closing, felt the walls you’d built around your heart slowly crumbling under his unspoken promises. Especially since he had this knack for being affectionate with you when there was no logical reason you could point to. No audience. No performance. Just you, him, and an unspoken need neither of you seemed to acknowledge.

When you finally felt cold enough to forget why you were so unreasonably horny at seven in the morning, you retreated back into the bedroom to get dressed. You tugged on a soft hoodie, the fabric warm and grounding against your skin. It didn’t erase the tension coiled in your chest, but at least it gave you something to hold onto.

The scent of coffee wafted through the air as you opened the door, a fleeting reminder of normalcy—or at least a distraction from the mess in your heart.

Namjoon was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. His mom, still barely awake, moved around the kitchen, preparing the tools she needed for breakfast. A fresh mug of coffee sat on the table, steam curling invitingly from it.

“Hey, love," Namjoon greeted simply, his voice warm and casual, the corner of his lips curling into a soft smile, his dimples making a devastatingly brief appearance. He gestured towards the steaming cup he’d prepared, his gaze lingering on you for just a second too long. “Coffee’s ready.”

“Good morning,” you greeted, directing a polite smile towards his mother before shifting your attention back to him.

Raising an eyebrow at the unexpected term of endearment, you decided you won’t to let him get in your head again. Two could play this game.

“Thank you, baby.” you said, deliberately exaggerating the word with mock sweetness, drawing it out just enough to make your point clear.

Namjoon paused, his smile faltering for just a second, as if the weight of what he’d just said had finally hit him. It was almost comical—the way his eyes widened slightly, the subtle tilt of his head as he realized he’d called you “love” so naturally, as ifwithout even noticing.

His dimples deepened as he recovered, but then there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that suggested he was more aware of the tension than he let on.

You watched him carefully, keeping your expression neutral as you took the mug from him. He opened his mouth, about to respond, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head lightly.

“You know I can’t resist messing with you a bit.” He replied, the playful tone in his voice thickening, tough there was an edge of amusement in the way he looked at you.

Like he didn’t mess enough with you this morning.

“What? Did you add salt instead of sugar?” you asked, keeping the sarcasm light enough to communicate your true intentions to him, but soft enough that no one else would notice the charged tension between you two.

Namjoon let out a soft snort at your jab, but the real reaction came from his mother.

A giggle bubbled out from where she stood in the corner of the kitchen, halfway through washing the rice. Her eyes sparked with mischief as she glanced over at the two of you. “Salt instead of sugar?” she repeated, a teasing edge creeping in her voice as she set down the bowl she was holding. “Is that your way of flirting these days, Namjoon?”

Namjoon groaned dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck as a faint flush crept up his neck. “Mom, please.” He mumbled, glancing sideways at you for support—or maybe escape.

You couldn’t suppress the grin spreading across your face, taking an almost perverse satisfaction in watching him squirm for once. “Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, holding the mug closer. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done this week.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, though the corners of his lips tugged upwards in an exasperated smile. “Don’t you start.” He warned lightly, his voice low and teasing as he shook his head.

Before you could get another word in, he stepped forwards, taking your hand with the mug still in it. With a mischievous smirk, he brought the cup to his lips and took a big gulp of your coffee, as if to prove there was no threat.

“See?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Perfectly fine. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You blinked, stunned for a moment by his audacity.

“You did not just drink my coffee.” You said, glancing at your mug, your voice incredulous.

His mother chuckled, clearly amused by the unfolding scene. “Honestly, watching you two is like watching preschoolers flirt,” she remarked, her tone light but pointed. As she turned back to her task, she added with a sly smile, “Namjoon, do you still pull on her hair instead of just telling her you love her?”

Namjoon froze, his hand still loosely holding yours, his wide eyes quickly darting from you to his mother as though searching for an escape route.

You, on the other hand, could feel the heat in your cheeks, spreading rapidly as her words sank in. Your heart stuttered under the weight of her question, her casual delivery doing nothing to soften its impact. Did she realty see you that way? Did everyone? Because this—the playful back-and-forth—wasn’t even part of the charade. This was just…you two.

The playful energy of moments ago dissolved into an awkward silence, thick with unspoken questions and the sudden realization that your dynamic maybe wasn’t as innocent as you’d thought. You risked a glance at Namjoon, hoping to gauge his reaction, but his face was turned away, a flush creeping up the back of his neck.

Then, in true Namjoon fashion, he fumbled his way straight into the worst possible response. “Only when she asks me to.”

Your jaw dropped, and before you could stop yourself, you swatted his arm. “Namjoon!”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on you—or his mother, whose laugh bubbled up, filling the room with delighted mischief. Namjoon winced at your retaliation but managed a sheepish smile, as if realizing too late that his attempt at humour had only dug him deeper into the hole.

“Oh, you two,” Mrs. Kim chuckled, shaking her head as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Honestly, it’s no wonder it took you so long to get together.” She said with a smile, her voice light but laced with the kind of amusement only a parent could muster.

Namjoon groaned softly, running a hand through his hair. “Mom, please,” he muttered, clearly regretting every life choice that had led to this moment. His hand lingered at the back of his neck, rubbing at the spot where his embarrassment always seemed to gather.

You bit the inside of your cheek, willing yourself not to react—or to let the warmth rising in your own face betray you, one of your telltale signs when you were lying. Instead, you lifted the mug to your lips, completely forgetting that Namjoon just drank from it. The faintest hint of him lingered on the rim, but you forced yourself to focus on the bitter coffee, letting it anchor you as you scrambled to regain some semblance of composure.

Namjoon’s mother didn’t seem inclined to drop the subject, though, casting a glance between the two of you, her eyes sparkling. “You know,” she began, her voice as casual as if she were discussing the weather, “I’ve never seen you this flustered. It’s kind of adorable.”

Namjoon cleared his throat, clearly searching for an exit route, but his usual eloquence failed him. Because he very lamely defended with, “I’m not flustered.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face, but the sight of him so out of sorts was too much. You hid your grin behind the rim of your mug, the bitter coffee doing little to mask the warmth blooming in your chest. “Me either, now that I think about it,” you chimed in, your tone deliberately light. “I second that.”

His eyes snapped to you, a mix of betrayal and exasperation flashing across his face. “You’re the one who—Traitor,” he mumbled, though there was no real bite in his words.

You giggle at his reaction, watching with delight as he gently pushes off the counter. “I can feel you two ganging up on me in the very near future, so I’m going to start helping just to avoid any further embarrassment.”

His mom just grinned, clearly relishing the moment. “Don’t be silly. It’s good to see you getting along so well, that’s all. But if you’re so eager, you can help peel the carrots.”

Namjoon sighed dramatically, but began rolling up his sleeves to wash his hands. “Peeling carrots,” he muttered under his breath, his tone mock-sullen. “This is what my life has come to.”

You watched him for a moment, his shoulders relaxing despite the exaggerated complaints, and felt a strange kind of warmth settle in your chest. Being here, in the kitchen, with him and his family—it felt easy. Familiar. Like you belonged.

Without a word, you set your mug down and stepped closer to join him.

“Joining in on my torture?” he asked, his lips quirking in a half-smile as he reached for something in the cupboard above.

“Can’t have you slicing off fingers on Christmas,” you replied, nodding up at him, adding a pinch of that normal back-and-forth you were so used to, the kind that kept things light.

Or at least, you tried to.

Because, to your utter shock, Namjoon somehow managed to smack himself in the face with the cupboard door.

The corner of the door caught him right above his eye, and he flinched back with a quick, hushed curse.

You stare for a second, completely stunned, your mouth opening in surprise as a small trickle of blood appeared at the edge of his eyebrow. He cursed again, more audibly this time, wincing as he reached up to touch the spot, only to pull his hand away like the pain had caught him off guard.

“Holy—Joonie, are you okay?” you rushed to his side, instinctively grabbing a napkin from the counter.

He looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief, though there was an underlying amusement that seemed to peek through, despite the situation “Yeah. It kinda hurts, though,” he admitted, glancing at you like he was trying to gauge just how bad it was.

“Yeah, no shit, you’re bleeding,” you shot back, holding up the napkin and carefully pressing it to the cut.

Namjoon chuckled weakly, the sound oddly endearing despite the blood trickling down his face. “I am?” he asked, raising his eyebrows—only to wince when the movement tugged at the fresh wound.

You didn’t even notice how close you had gotten, too focused on your task to register that you were standing on your tiptoes to reach him, or that his hands grabbed your waist to keep you steady. The proximity was a detail you were too preoccupied to process, nor did you notice Mrs. Kim watching the scene unfold with a fond smile on her face.

“Hold still,” you instructed, gently holding the napkin in place. “You’ll need some ice to stop the bruising.”

“There’s peas in the freezer,” his mom casually pointed out, “and bandages in the drawer to your left.”

You nodded absentmindedly, still focused on the napkin pressing against his face. The light pressure was enough to slow the bleeding, but you could already see the hint of a bruise starting to form.

You sigh, gesturing at him to hold the napkin while you get the supplies, his fingers brushing over yours in the exchange.

“Will you ever learn that you are tall and corners exist?” you chastised, walking over to the fridge to rummage for the peas.

Namjoon chuckled at your exasperation; the sound soft but warm. “Maybe one day.”

You managed to pull the freezer open, grabbing the bag of frozen peas and holding it up to the light. “Well, I’m not gonna hold my breath.”

When you turned to make your way back to him, you saw his eyes following you with an almost fond expression. “It’s lucky I’m cute,” he said with a wink, clearly trying to downplay the whole situation.

“You’re lucky I don’t pass out at the sight of blood.” You quipped, handing him the peas with a soft chuckle. “Now, take a seat. I can’t reach you.” You grabbed the band-aids from the drawer, your fingers quickly working on finding the right sized ones.

Namjoon’s lip twitched, somewhere between amusement and exasperation, but he obediently pulled out a chair and sat down, slouching slightly so you could tend to him without straining.

When you turned back to him, you noticed how he was staring at you—his usual teasing gone, replaced by something softer, more genuine.

“Hold still,” you instructed, carefully dabbing at the blood on his face with a fresh napkin.

As you worked, your fingers brushed through his hair, tucking a stray lock behind his ear. It was a small gesture, but it sent a sudden flutter through your chest, because his eyes fluttered close under your touch.

The soft kitchen light seemed to highlight the details of his face—freckles, small moles, the curve of his jaw—details you hadn’t truly taken the time to admire before. But now, with his eyes closed, his features relaxing as though the pain was a distant memory, you allowed yourself the indulgence of taking it all in.

For a fleeting moment, you almost forgave him for drinking your coffee.

His breath evened out, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips as you pressed the band-aid into place with care. Your fingers lingered against his skin, cupping his face to keep him still, and your heart faltered when you realized how effortlessly he surrendered to your touch, as if trusting you entirely to put him back together.

It was only then you noticed how close you were—standing between his open legs, his hands resting quietly on your hips as though they belonged there, silently urging you closer.

The realization hit you like a jolt, and for a beat, you froze. The proximity sent a wave of warmth through you, leaving your hands a little shaky as you reached for the peas again, hoping to focus on something other than the magnetic pull between you.

But just as you moved away, the atmosphere shifted, heavy with the feeling of being watched. You glanced up, only to catch Mrs. Kim standing in the doorway. Her expression was knowing, her lips quirking into a faintly amused smile that made your cheeks burn.

Namjoon’s voice broke the silence, drawing your attention back to him. “Will I survive?” he asked, a hint of humour laced in his tone as he glanced up at you, still holding the bag of peas against his cheek.

His small, half-smile was so casual, so utterly oblivious to the storm of emotions tearing through you, that it only made your chest tighten further.

“You just might,” you managed to reply, your voice steadier than you expected, though your heart was pounding in your ears.

“Good.” He stood up, hands still holding you close. “Let’s get peeling. No one gets away from this job.”

~~~

You paced around the bedroom, rifling through the limited wardrobe you’d packed, desperately trying to assemble something decent for Hoseok’s Christmas party—something you’d completely forgotten about until the last minute. And honestly, who would blame you after a day like this?

Cozy sweaters and jeans had been your go-to during your stay at Namjoon’s parents’ house, but those felt far too casual for an event like this.

And while the little black dress paired with sheer tights and thigh-high boots seemed like a solid option at first, the howling snowstorm outside quickly made you reconsider.

Namjoon had assured you it didn’t matter, but one quick scroll through Hoseok’s Instagram had your anxiety kicking into overdrive. His house was sleek and impossibly modern, adorned with Christmas décor that looked straight out of a designer catalogue. The polished tree, the subtle golden accents—it all screamed sophistication, a stark contrast to the decidedly average contents of your suitcase.

After watching you agonize over your outfit for half an hour, Minhi had kindly offered to take you to the mall. You’d politely declined.

Because going to the mall during the holidays was, in your opinion, the worst form of torture ever devised by humanity.

Instead, she rummaged through her own closet and handed you a pair of thermal tights and a leather skirt.

With her help, you managed to put together an ensemble that felt both festive and weather-appropriate. The leather skirt paired perfectly with the tights, and your favourite thigh-high boots added just the right edge. You topped it off with a boatneck burgundy sweater that showcased your shoulders, cinching it all together with a sleek belt.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, Namjoon was sprawled on the bed, already dressed for the party in a cream sweater and loose jeans—a frustratingly effortless combination—and halfway through a book. His eyes flicked up as you entered the room, and a slow, appreciative smile spread across his face.

He probably wasn’t admiring at your outfit, you thought dryly. More likely, he was just relieved you were finally done monopolizing the bathroom.

“You look good,” he said simply, his voice warm with something that sounded suspiciously like admiration as he watched you settle at the little desk to finish your makeup.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you asked, smoothing your hands nervously over the skirt before rummaging through your chaotic makeup bag in search of a lipstick.

His words seemed casual, but there was an undertone that made your pulse quicken. Compliments from Namjoon weren’t rare, but it was always how he said them—earnest and genuine, like he meant them even when he wasn’t trying to. It was something you were used to, or so you told yourself.

The sound of his book closing drew your attention, and when you glanced in the mirror, your eyes locked with his.

“Not at all,” he said, his voice warm and certain, his gaze unwavering. “You’re perfect.”

That was different.

You felt a flush creep up your neck, but you kept your gaze on the mirror, pretending to be absorbed in the precise swipe of lipstick rather than the insane fluttering in your chest.

“Sweet talker,” you murmured, hoping to sound unaffected, though the grin plastered on your face gave you away.

Namjoon chucked, the deep, rich sound filling the room. “Just honest,” he replied, propping himself up on one elbow. His gaze was intense, and it held you captive in that way that made your cheeks warm. Damn him.

You capped your lipstick and turned to face him, trying for a casual air as you smoothed down the sweater. “Alright, I think I’m ready.”

He rose from the bed, unfolding his tall frame with an easy grace and he made his way towards you with an easy stride.

Now standing in front of you, he reached out, fingers brushing against your temple as he to gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. A simple, intimate gesture, that made your breath catch just the same.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his undivided attention on you. His eyes seemed to flicker with a thousand thoughts, a whirlwind of ideas that seemed to cross his mind before he finally settled on one.

“I want to give you a hickey.”

Your jaw dropped, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, utterly stunned. “Excuse me?” you managed, your voice squeaking higher than you intended.

Namjoon’s dimples made an appearance as he tried to suppress a grin, though his eyes gleamed with pure mischievous delight. “I said,” he repeated, completely unrepentant, “I want to give you a hickey.”

You opened and closed your mouth, brain scrambling for a coherent response. “You-you can’t just say stuff like that, Namjoon!” you sputtered, heat rushing to your head and making you lightheaded.

“Why not?” His tone was maddeningly calm, as though he’d just commented on the weather rather than that sudden, unexpected declaration.

“Because!” you gestured vaguely at yourself and the outfit you painstakingly put together, still clinging to a sense of composure “Look at this! Do you know how much effort went into this? And you want to… to ruin it with a hickey?”

And fuel my late-night fantasies for the rest of my life while you’re at it, you silently added.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly, clearly amused by your outrage, his hand still hovering over your face. “I don’t think it would ruin anything,” he said softly, his voice low.

His gaze flitted briefly to your collarbone before returning to your eyes, warm but challenging. “I think it might add something, and make this whole ordeal more believable.”

“Namjoon!” you hissed, glancing nervously toward the door, half-expecting someone to walk in on this absurd conversation.

He laughed, the sound rich and teasing, before stepping closer, his legs bumping against your knees and almost making them open. The closeness made your heart go crazy, his presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. “Relax, I’m just teasing,” he said, tough the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I told you I like giving hickeys to my lovers,” he said with a casual shrug—a detail you’d conveniently buried but now recalled with sudden clarity. The realization hit you like a freight train, and the weight of the implication made your cheeks burn.

Before you could respond, his hand moved again, this time his fingers grazing over your cheek before gently cupping your chin. “We want this to be believable, right?” he said softly, his tone low and disarming.

He tilted your head up, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as his gaze bore into yours. His expression softened, and his lips quirked into a faint smile. “And you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself.

You huffed, clinging desperately to your last shred of defiance. “If you give me one then I’m giving you one too!” you protested, your voice more confident than you felt. You hoped the bravado would make him back down, but deep down, you already knew that Namjoon is just as hardheaded as you and would never back down when you push his buttons.

His eyebrows shot up, clearly intrigued by your declaration. “Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” he asked, his voice a velvety blend of amusement and challenge.

You crossed your arms, trying to look more confident than you felt. “That’s exactly how it’s going to be. Fair’s fair.”

His chuckle was low and dangerous, the kind that made your stomach flip. “Fair. But are you sure you’re ready for that?”

His fingers lingered on your chin moving down to your neck, his touch light, the words hanging between you, making the tension even more palpable. He lowered his gaze to your lips for a beat.

You squared your shoulders, watching him with a daring spark in your eyes. You weren’t quite sure where this new-fond courage was coming from, but you couldn’t back down yet.

After all, you couldn’t make his heart flutter like he did yours, but damn it, you could at least make his blood pressure rise.

“Oh, I’m definitely ready. Did you forget how I woke up this morning?” At that remark his confidence wavered, and you smirked. “Are you?”

Namjoon’s eyes darkened. He took a step back, but there was something in his posture now—something that hinted he wasn’t quite ready to let go of this newly formed energy between you. His fingers brushed against the fabric of your sweater, but it was almost as if he were trying to compose himself.

“I’m game if you are.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to let the rush of nerves make you falter. “Fine.” You said, mimicking his calmness, tough your heart was undoubtedly going to burst out of your chest and land on his lap any second.

Without another word, his hand slid to your neck, his thumb pressing softly against your pulse point. Then, with a fluid motion, he knelt in front of you, reaching under the desk chair to adjust it. He pulled you closer, the sudden shift leaving your knees brushing against his chest, until your faces were mere inches apart.

You gasped, the heat rising to your cheeks in a slow, burning wave as he leaned in, narrowing the space between you to a breath.

His lips hovered just above your skin, the warmth of his breath brushing teasingly against your neck. You froze, caught between the urge to pull away and the undeniable pull that kept you rooted in place.

He pressed closer, his body fitting perfectly into the space between your legs as you unconsciously spread them to make room for him. Your hands found his shoulders instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as though holding on for dear life.

You felt his lips curve into a smirk against your pulse point, a maddening mixture of confidence and playfulness. His cologne, warm and woodsy with a hint of something spicy, enveloped you entirely, clouding your thoughts and making it impossible to focus on anything but him.

“Relax, I don’t bite…much.” His voice was low and laced with amusement.

And then you wonder why your feelings were so tangled…

You held your breath as his lips brushed against your skin, featherlight yet sending fireworks through your veins. The shift in the air was palpable, and you were acutely aware how it all transformed from mere playful flirting into something undeniably intimate.

When his lips finally pressed against your neck—soft and deliberate—it was like the world tilted on its axis. The simple gesture unravelled you in ways you hadn’t anticipated, setting all your nerves alight. His teeth grazed your skin, and a soft gasp escaped before you could even think to stop it.

He consumed you entirely, leaving no room for rational thoughts. You couldn’t tell if it was the gentle pressure of his mouth, the confidence in his movements, or the sheer closeness of him, but it was intoxicating, overwhelming and undeniably, all Namjoon.

You could feel the way your body responded to him, melting into his touch, leaving you boneless under his attention, and for a second, you wondered if he could feel the heat building between your legs.

As his tongue traced the outline of the hickey he was leaving, you let out a sound—a quiet, needy whimper that surprised even you. It was the kind of sound that you’d never meant to make, the kind that gave away everything you were feeling, despite your best efforts to hide it.

Namjoon stilled at that, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer before he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching your face.

But you refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you leaned further into him, burying your face in his shoulder, one hand threading into his hair in a silent plea.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Don’t stop.”

His breath hitched at your words, and then his lips found that spot again with renewed purpose. This time, he didn’t hold back. His teeth sank into your skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp, the sensation igniting a shiver down your spine. When you mewled, his tongue followed, soothing the sting with deliberate, careful strokes.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he worked, every second heightening the electricity coursing through you. Finally, Namjoon pulled back, his lips ghosting over your skin one last time before he leaned away to admire his handiwork.

You lifted trembling fingers to touch the spot, the warmth still radiating from the fresh hickey.

“Told you it would look good,” he said, his voice low and slightly rougher than before, though his tone was carrying he same teasing edge.

You blinked up at him, your brain still struggling to catch up. The audacity, the thrill of what his lips had done to you—it was all too much.

His confidence was effortless, and it stood in sharp contrast to the insecurity now blooming in your chest. You were a mess, your emotions tangled and raw.

This was supposed to be a game, you reminded yourself. A performance. A pretense for the world.

But the way Namjoon looked at you, the amusement and unspoken understanding glimmering in his dark eyes—it felt far too real. Almost like he understood something you didn’t.

“Right,” he broke the silence, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with effortless ease. “Before you get your turn, my knees are starting to hurt. Do you mind if I sit down?” He gestured casually to the bed behind him, his tone light, but his gaze remained steady locked onto you.

You nodded, your throat tight, the words getting lost somewhere between your racing heart and your scattered thoughts.

Namjoon casually sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to him. “Come here,” he said, the warmth in his voice undercut by an unmistakable challenge.

For a moment, you hesitated, a whirlwind of thoughts crashing through your mind. Every rational part of you screamed to play it cool, to call his bluff. But your feet were already in motion, betraying your resolve.

With a sigh, you stood, smoothing the edge of your skirt and walked toward him, heart still racing in your chest, but also a twinge of annoyance keeping it beating in contretemps—why did he get to be so effortlessly charming while you were left breathless and flustered by the slightest touch?

You reach him, and instead of sitting beside him like he expected, you boldly climbed onto his lap, your skirt riding up just enough to reveal a hint of your thighs.

“Is this better?” you purred, meeting his gaze in an intense staring contest. You couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth, but the challenge was clear: you could play his game.

Namjoon’s eyes widened slightly, his composure cracking for the briefest moment. “M-much better,” he stammered, his hands instinctively finding your hips to steady you, though the surprise in his voice was quickly masked with a hitched breath.

“Good.” Your whispered, the word barely escaping your lips as you leaned in, pressing your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but smirk inwardly, noticing the way he fought to keep his eyes from wandering down to where your chest was now pressed against him.

Closing the distance between you, you let your lips graze his jawline in a slow, electrifying touch that sent a thrill shooting through your veins. His heartbeat thrummed beneath your touch, its rapid rhythm mirroring your own, as though your hearts were tangled together in that moment. You smiled against his skin, trailing your lips down his neck, savouring the rare power shift you’d managed to create, though it was short-lived.

Namjoon’s hands slid from your hips to your lower back, his warm fingers pressing against you skin with a gentle insistence that sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. His touch was unhurried and deliberate, brushing beneath your shirt in a way that made your breath hitch and you skin prick with need.

You felt his body tense beneath your palms, every muscle coiled with barely contained restraint. His breath grew uneven as your fingers traced the curve of his neck, your touch lingering as you searched for that perfect spot to leave your mark.

Each movement was slow and deliberate, your intent clear as you took your time, savouring every shiver that rippled through him, every spasm that betrayed the effect you had on him. The quiet tension in the room thickened, each breath, each touch feeding the growing heat between you.

His fingers grip your back tighter, a silent plea for more. His eyes darken, and his mouth parts slightly, betraying the control he’s struggling to maintain as you pepper his neck with soft kisses. You catch his pulse flitter beneath your lips, and with that, you know exactly where to leave your mark.

You press your lips to the sensitive spot, and slowly, deliberately, you sink your teeth into his skin. Namjoon stiffens at the pressure, a soft gasp escaping him, but you don’t relent. Instead, you suck a mark—one that’s sure to linger.

He groans low in his throat, his hands moving up to your shoulders, but they’re not pushing you away. They’re pulling you closer, urging you to stay right where you are. His grip tightens again, not in restraint, but in a desperate need for more and you can’t help but indulge him.

You shift, moving lower to leave another mark, this time with more urgency, and then another and another until you reach the collar of his sweater. Once satisfied with his state, you leaned back, your gaze locking with his.

Namjoon’s eyes are blown wide, his ragged breath mingling roughly with yours. His chest rises and falls beneath your hands as you pull back, taking a moment to admire the marks you’ve left behind. The faint flushes of red against his skin making your heart race, a mixture of pride and something akin to love flooding your chest.

Your fingers glide along the sharp line of his jaw, your touch featherlight as you tilt his face upward ever so slightly. His compliance makes your heart stutter—how effortlessly he lets himself be guided by you again, trusting and open to you.

You pause for a moment, taking in the closeness, the way his dark eyes flicker with an intensity that threatens to steal your breath. Slowly, cautiously, you lean in, your lips hovering just a breath away from his, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

No more games, no more walls. Just this—raw, unguarded, and inevitable.

His breath was hot against your skin, the faint scent of mint makes your head spin. His hands tighten, as if anchoring himself in the moment.

But just as your lips were about to meet, the door swung open with a loud bang, the sudden noise splintering the tension.

“Ready to go? You two are going to be late-” Jackson’s voice trailed off as he froze in the doorway. “Oh?”

The room seemed to freeze along with him, the awkward, tension-laden silence settling in the air. Jackson’s eyes darted between you and Namjoon, his sharp gaze taking in every detail—the blush on your cheeks, Namjoon’s dishevelled shirt, and the undeniable red mark blooming on your neck. A playful eyebrow arched in genuine surprise, and an almost imperceptible grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he realised what he just walked in on.

Namjoon was the first to react, his grip on you loosening just slightly, though he didn’t let you go completely. He shot Jackson a pointed look, the faintest blush creeping up his neck, though his demeanour stayed intact.

“We were just-” Namjoon broke off, realizing there were no words that could really explain this without sounding absolutely ridiculous.

You, on the other hand, felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. You could feel your heart pounding, your cheeks flushed, and for the first time since walking into this room, you regretted wearing that confident smirk. You pulled back slightly, hands still resting on Namjoon’s shoulders, and glanced at Jackson, whose grin only grew wider.

“I-uh... we were just about to head out,” you stammered, standing up off Namjoon’s lap, awkwardly fixing your skirt before reaching for your purse, suddenly too aware of how dishevelled you both looked.

Fuck, fuck-fuckity, fuck.

“Yeah, sure looked like it,” Jackson grinned, leaning against the doorframe far too casually.

Namjoon exhaled sharply, his expression shifting from amused to mildly exasperated as he shot Jackson a look that could only be described as a warning. “Jackson,” he said, his tone light but firm.

Jackson raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll be out here if you need me. Just try not to be too late, lovebirds.”

With a final chuckle, he stepped back, leaving the door ajar as he walked down the hall.

You let out a long breath, your hands now nervously smoothing over your skirt, trying to pretend like nothing had happened, getting a step ahead of Namjoon’s usual calm demeanour. But the charged energy between you two was hard to ignore.

“Well, that was... perfectly timed,” he muttered, his voice tinged with amusement, confirming yet again, that Namjoon was some kind of rare breed of monk that could remain calm even in the weirdest of situations, and it was only you and your stupid brain misinterpreting everything about the situation you were in.

You shot him a look, anxiety prickling at the back of your mind. What would have happened if you kissed him?

He probably would have finally dropped the act, and you in the process with it. God damn it all. Freud would have a field day dissecting your brain right now.

Namjoon tilted his head, watching you fidget with your lipstick, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. It wasn’t smugness, like you expected, or teasing, like you feared. It was softer, genuine, almost curious.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that it didn’t feel like a question so much as an invitation to exhale.

You forced a shrug, your hand trembling just slightly as you turned back to the mirror, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah, never been better,” you replied, the words too casual, too light to be entirely convincing.

Namjoon’s gaze lingered, the weight of it making your skin buzz, but you avoided meeting his eyes, focusing instead on reapplying your lipstick, pretending like the tremor in your hands wasn’t there

“You, uh, might want to wipe that off your neck, though,” you added, gesturing vaguely toward the red lipstick smudges you left on his skin, along with the faint, blooming hickeys.

He blinked, his fingers instinctively brushing over his neck, and when he caught sight of his reflection in the nearby mirror, his lips quirked into a big smile.

“Not bad,” he murmured, his tone light but carrying an edge of amusement that made your stomach flip as he reached for one of your makeup wipes.

You shot him a glare through the mirror, head flooding your cheeks.

“What?”

Your glare sharpened, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “What do you mean, what? You’re just... too calm about this!”

He raised an eyebrow, his hand pausing mid-wipe. For a moment, you thought he might actually take you seriously, but then that signature grin spread across his face.

And with maddening ease, he threw your own words from this morning right back at you.

“Yeah, well. One of us has to be.”

~~~

You were the last guests to arrive at Hoseok’s place.

Jackson and Minhi had dropped you off a few streets away on their way to the market for an intense last-minute Christmas shopping session. As the car slowed down to a stop, Minhi gave you a knowing smile, warm and teasing, while Jackson couldn’t resist throwing in one last jab from the driver’s seat.

“Don’t let anyone see that neck of yours, yeah? The marks might be gone by New Year’s though.” His grin was all trouble, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

Minhi swatted his arm, rolling her eyes, but her laughter betrayed her amusement. “Ignore him,” she said, though the grin tugging on her lips mirrored his perfectly.

Namjoon shot them both a withering glare, his hand tugging at the collar of his jacket in a futile attempt to shield himself from their bullying.

“Thanks for the reminder,” he muttered dryly, his voice twinged with irritation as he opening the car door for you.

You busied yourself arranging your coat, willing the heat rising in your cheeks to fade. It didn’t help that Jackson leaned out of the car window, calling after him, “Don’t worry, Joon. We’re all adults here. It’s normal!”

The sound of Minhi’s exasperated, “Jackson, drive!” was barely enough to drown out his laughter as they sped away, leaving you and Namjoon standing in the cold, with an interesting kind of silence stretching between you.

As the car disappearing into the snowy street, you felt the familiar nerves creep back in, knotting in your stomach.

Namjoon must have noticed because, without hesitation, his hand found yours. The gesture was casual, but the warmth of his palm grounded you. He gave your fingers a small squeeze before guiding you down the quiet street towards Hoseok’s house.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice soft and steady as he glanced at you with a small, warm smile. “It’s just Hoseok.”

You managed a smile in return, through it felt more like an act of bravery than genuine reassurance. “Yeah, which means everyone will be there.” you laugh, even as anxiousness bubbled in your stomach

It wasn’t just the idea of walking into a house full of people you barely knew. It was what the party represented: being introduced to Namjoon’s closest friends, the ones who’d grown up with him, who knew him inside and out. It felt like lying all over again.

The role felt just as daunting, the weight of pretending just as heavy as when you first arrived at Namjoon’s parents’ house, stepping into the same carefully constructed charade. But now, it seemed even more complicated—because these people weren’t just family. They were the ones who’d shaped him, who might see through you with a single glance and not be afraid to call it out.

The cold nipped at your skin, but Namjoon’s touch was steady and warm. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, catching in your hair and melting against your searing cheeks.

Ahead, the glow from Hoseok’s house spilled onto the snowy lawn, warm and inviting. The windows framed silhouettes of people milling about inside, the occasional bursts of laughter spilled into the quiet night. It was the kind of place that instantly felt alive, where every sound promised laughter and warmth—but to you, it was another reminder of how much was riding on this evening.

Namjoon’s voice broke the quiet. “Hey,” he said, his tone softer than usual. He slowed his steps, turning to look at you fully. “You don’t have to be nervous. They’ll love you.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Love me, or love the idea of you finally bringing someone over?”

His smile faltered for a split second, replaced by a sheepish look that made your stomach flip. “Maybe a little of both,” he admitted, his tone light. But before you could dwell on it, he added, “But I wouldn’t have brought you if I thought it wouldn’t have been great.”

“I just feel like I’m lying again.”

Namjoon’s expression softened at your words, his steps coming to a full stop as he gently tugged your hand, prompting you to face him. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, the comforting motion grounding you despite the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your head.

“You’re not lying,” he said firmly, his voice steady and sure. “You’re here because you’re important to me, and that’s the truth. And the rest…” He paused, searching your eyes. “The rest doesn’t matter as much as you think it does.”

You frowned, your nerves still quickening under the surface. “But they don’t know that. To them, I’m your girlfriend. This whole thing—it’s still lying.”

“I know it feels like that,” he said gently. “But... it doesn’t feel like pretending to me. Not when it’s you.”

His words caught you off guard, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest even as your stomach twisted with doubt. You searched his face, trying to read between the lines, but his expression was earnest, open, and it only made your heart ache just a bit more.

“But what if they see through it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if they realize it’s all an act?”

Before you could overthink it further, his hand gently cupped your cheek. He smiled, a small, crooked grin that managed to melt away some of the tension in your chest. “They’ll be so busy being excited that I finally brought someone, they won’t even notice.”

Namjoon’s lighthearted comment earned a soft laugh from you, even as you shook your head against his palm. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips.

“I mean it,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “And trust me, with you looking this stunning, it’s going to be hard enough to keep the boys from hitting on you, let alone anyone noticing.”

The comment pulled a genuine laugh from you this time, the weight over your shoulders easing ever so slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind if things get awkward.”

Namjoon’s thumb gently brushed against your cheek. “It won’t. And even if it does, I’ll be right there with you. Promise.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer, finding something steadying in the way he looked at you. “Thank you Joonie, I’m sorry I keep making this difficult on you.”

Namjoon shook his head, his expression morphing again into something soft, almost weak. “You’re not making it difficult,” he said gently. “I get it. It’s a lot to ask of you, and I’ve probably handled this in the most Namjoon way possible—which, let’s be honest, means a bit of a mess.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his self-deprecating humour, even as your heart ached a little. “You’ve handled it fine. It’s me who keeps overthinking everything.”

He tilted his head, his gaze searching yours with a quiet intensity. “You’re not overthinking—you’re just feeling. And that’s okay. I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Joon, you make it sound like I’m the most complicated person in the world.”

“Maybe you are,” he teased lightly, his grin reappearing. “But I like complicated. Complicated is honest.”

The warmth in his voice made your cheeks flush, and for a moment, you felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the crisp night air and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots fading into the background.

Namjoon smiled, the kind of smile that made his dimples appear and seemed to light up the cold night. Without another word, he started walking again, leading you up the stairs, your hand still firmly in his.

Before you could chicken out, he reached the door and knocked. It swung open almost immediately to reveal Hoseok, dressed in an awful Christmas sweater with reindeers humping, beaming like he’d been stationed there just waiting for you to show up.

“There they are!” Hoseok’s voice was jubilant as he threw his arms wide, ushering you both inside. “The couple of the hour!”

The heat inside hit you instantly, a stark contrast to the cold that made itself at home in your bones, but it was nothing compared to the heat that rose to your face at Hoseok’s greeting.

“Hobi, tone it down,” Namjoon said, though there was no real annoyance in his voice. He stepped forward to pull Hoseok into a quick hug, shaking his head. “You’re going to scare her off before we even get inside.”

Hoseok turned to you; his grin as impish as ever. “Not a chance. If I remember correctly, she’s tougher than she looks.” His smile only grew wider when he walked over to hug you, “It’s really good to see you again, peach,”

Then, with a theatrical lean forward, he added in a mock-serious whisper, “I’ve always known the two of you were endgame, by the way.”

Your mouth almost fell open, but before you could think of a reply, Namjoon groaned, “Don’t start this again.”

“Oh, I’ve barely started,” Hoseok shot back with a wink, stepping aside to let you both in. He gestured grandly toward the lively house behind him. “But first, welcome to the party. And just for the record, I’d like to take full credit for this coupling.”

“You?” you asked lightly, finally finding your voice. You steadied yourself with a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder as you leaned down to tug off your boots. “What exactly did you do?”

“I’d like to believe,” Hoseok said, his grin growing impossibly wider, “that my relentless flirting with you last time I visited was the final push Namjoon needed to grow a pair and actually make a move on you.”

Your laugh came out before you could stop it, equal parts shocked and entertained. You glanced at Namjoon, who looked simultaneously mortified and amused, his ears flushing a telltale red.

“You’d be surprised,” Namjoon chuckled, shooting Hoseok a sidelong look that was both warning and affectionate. “Though I’d hardly call your meddling relentless flirting. More like annoying provocation.”

“Semantics,” Hoseok said breezily, waving his hand as if to dismiss Namjoon’s critique. “The important thing is that it worked. You two are here now—perfect couple—and I have front-row seats. Life is good.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, but his grip on your arm tightened slightly, as if to silently ask if you were okay. When you gave him a small amused nod, he relaxed, steering you further inside, with a warm palm against your back.

“Come on,” Hoseok said, leading the way. “Drinks are in the kitchen, snacks everywhere, and just about everyone’s dying to meet Namjoon’s mystery girlfriend. No pressure.”

The house hummed with warmth and energy, a perfect blend of festive chaos and cozy familiarity. “This is quite a big event, huh?” you asked, your tone light, though your eyes darted over the bustling crowd in the living room absorbing the vibrant energy.

“Only the best for my favourite people,” Hoseok replied smoothly, his grin widening as he gestured ahead. “You included, of course.”

Namjoon chuckled softly beside you, the low sound a comforting anchor in the lively chaos. His hand stayed firmly on your back, a grounding presence as the room’s details unfolded before you.

The chatter, bursts of laughter, and the smooth strains of jazzy Christmas music created a lively background symphony. The sweet, inviting scents of cinnamon, mulled wine, and a hint of vanilla wrapped around you, mingling with the warmth of the room. The golden glow of twinkling lights bounced off the ornaments, their soft shimmer casting a dreamy radiance over the space.

Your attention shifted on a familiar face—Jungkook, donning a garishly cheerful sweater that matched his girlfriend’s equally ugly one. Their cheerful waves caught your eye, Jungkook’s grin as bright as ever. His girlfriend nudged him with a playful laugh, clearly teasing him about something you couldn’t catch over the hum of the room. You waved back, a sense of relief blooming at the sight of friendly faces.

Namjoon followed your gaze, his lips curving into a small smile. “Looks like they’re already excited to see you,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Or you,” you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly. “He’s your gym buddy. I’m just here to admire his biceps.” You said, unable to resist the playful jab.

Namjoon let out a warm laugh, the sound rolling out effortlessly as he shook his head. “You’re my girlfriend.” he shot back with a smirk, “You’re only allowed to admire my biceps.”

Little did he know you already did.

You giggled, the playful banter a small but welcome release of tension. The knot in your chest loosened, a sense of ease slipping in. Whatever was waiting for you tonight, Namjoon was by your side. And if things went sideways, well…you could always throw him under the bus.

Of course, you already knew most of his close friends, whether from their random visits or the funny stories Namjoon had shared during your late-night talks. Still, you couldn’t ignore the curious glances that followed you both. Conversations dipped into pauses as people noticed Namjoon, greeting him with warmth—enthusiastic hugs and handshakes—and every time, their attention shifted to you, eyes filled with intrigue.

True to form, Namjoon was the perfect fake boyfriend. With a proud grin, he introduced you to everyone, weaving a believable story about how you met and ended up together. The pride in his voice sent a subtle flutter through your chest, even if the situation felt a little surreal.

After each introduction, he leaned in close to you, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered who they were, adding in fun tidbits or inside jokes about each person. It felt natural—too natural—like you’d always been a fundamental part of his world.

At some point, you found yourself chatting with one of Namjoon’s childhood friends, a quiet but kind woman named Jisoo, who had been part of their friend group since high school. Her presence was calming, and you found yourself sharing a laugh over something she said about Namjoon being a “closet softie” in his youth.

Meanwhile, Namjoon was off talking to a few people near the kitchen, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands. You could see the comfort and familiarity in his body language as he laughed along with his friends, but every so often, his eyes would flick back to you, checking in. It was such a subtle thing, but it made you feel like you were still the centre of his attention, even amidst all the noise and laughter.

Jisoo, noticing your gaze, smiled knowingly. “He’s a good guy, you know. You’re really lucky.”

Taken aback, you blinked, unsure how to respond. “Oh, uh, thanks,”

“I just mean,” she continued, “I’ve known him for years, and seeing him like this—happy, with someone who makes him smile—it’s a big deal. He’s been kind of... closed off since Su-Ho.” She gave you an appraising look before adding, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You knew that Namjoon hadn’t been in a relationship since his last heartbreak. In the years living with him, you’d seen glimpses of the scars it left behind—the guarded moments, the hesitation when he let someone close, the way he avoided lingering too long in conversations about love. Hearing someone else acknowledge that weight, and imply that you might be a part of helping him carry it, it was humbling, overwhelming, and terrifying all at once. It made your chest tighten impossibly.

You had always wanted the best for him, of course. That’s why you’re here, wasn’t it? Back when you first moved in together, you’d even gone out of your way to suggest some of your single colleagues from work as potential matches. Because Namjoon was incredible—a unique combination of a golden heart and a brilliant mind. The right amount of sexy and dorky, a poet with a stubborn streak. The idea that someone could break that heart had always felt deeply unfair.

Especially since he barely held any resentment towards his ex.

But he’d always gently turned down your suggestions, saying he just wasn’t looking. You’d understood, of course. And if you were being completely honest, after years of living together, you couldn’t deny the small pang of dread at the thought of him finding someone else. Not because you didn’t want him to be happy, but because the two of you had fallen into a rhythm, a quiet, comfortable life shared between two people who had no one else to come home to. The thought of losing that, of being replaced, was a kind of ache you didn’t want to examine too closely.

You also understood his frustration when all he wanted was to visit home without having his relationship status turned into an interrogation. His life, his choices, they were enough—but somehow, they never seemed to be to anyone else.

And now, here you were. His friends accepted you so easily, welcomed you into their circle as though you’d always belonged there. But instead of feeling relief, you couldn’t shake the small, gnawing sensation of betrayal. It wasn’t towards Namjoon or his friends—it was towards yourself.

Because you weren’t entirely sure if you were pretending anymore.

“Oh! You’re Namjoon’s girlfriend, right?” a melodic voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you abruptly back to the present.

You turned towards the voice, immediately recognizing the woman approaching. “I’m Iseul, I work at the pastry shop you visited!” she said with an easy charm. Her big pouty lips curved into a warm smile, and before you could react, she enveloped you in a friendly hug.

“I kept meaning to come over and say ‘hi’, but I couldn’t get a break,” she huffed, her tone amused, her energy bright and disarming.

But none of that registered fully because your brain had latched onto something else entirely—Namjoon had introduced you as his girlfriend at the pastry shop.

Even in a situation where there was no need for the relationship, no one to convince, he’d called you his girlfriend.

The realization hit hard, quickly spiralling into another—your mini jealous outburst that day, the kiss you’d pressed to his lips out of pure, irrational possessiveness, all over something that didn’t even happen.

Heat crept up your neck as the memory replayed in vivid detail, your stomach twisting with a mix of embarrassment and something far more complicated.

“You should have seen those two” Iseul chirped, her voice light and cheerful as she glanced at Jisoo. “Barely managed to keep their hands off one another.”

She giggled, clearly entertained by the memory, and you froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jisoo raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued as she turned to you. “Really? Namjoon? Didn’t think he was one for public displays.”

Your mind scrambled for a response, but all you could do was let out a nervous laugh, one that sounded forced even to your own ears.

“Ah, well,” you started stalling for time as your brain worked overtime to piece together something coherent. “I guess he was just… excited about the milk bread.”

Iseul’s giggle turned into a full laugh at your weak explanation, and Jisoo smirked knowingly.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but thankfully, Namjoon appeared by your side, his timing nothing short of miraculous. He slid an arm around your waist, his presence grounding you instantly.

“What’s this about milk bread?” he asked, his tone light but curious as his eyes dared between Iseul and Jisoo.

Iseul grinned mischievously. “Oh, just reminiscing about how involved you two were the last time you came to the shop.”

Namjoon’s brows shot up briefly, but he recovered quickly, his lips twitching into a sheepish smile. “Ah, yeah. This one likes mistletoe.” He gave a playful nod your way, his words laced with a teasing edge.

You felt your face heat up, your cheeks likely resembling the colour of the poinsettias in the room. “It’s festive,” you mumbled, glaring half-heartedly at Namjoon.

Jisoo raised an amused eyebrow. “Are you two always this committed to the holiday spirit?”

Namjoon chuckled, his hand tightening around your waist. “What can I say? She makes the season bright.”

The warmth of his tone made your heart stumble in your chest. It was the kind of comment that should have been part of the act, but the way he said it felt too genuine. Just a little too real.

“Sap,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze, which in turn earned a delighted laugh from the group.

Iseul sighed dramatically, clasping her hands together. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

Namjoon laughed again, his dimples flashing as he shrugged. “I’ve actually seen worse.”

As the conversation continued, you leaned into Namjoon’s side, his steady presence helping you navigate the teasing with a bit more grace. Still, the whole conversation lingered into your mind, and it made you wonder just how much of this you could actually take.

After a little while, the group moved to the couch, each one getting a glass of wine. You exchanged pleasantries with Jungkook and his girlfriend, laughing over some story of Namjoon being a klutz in the gym, and enjoying the warmth of the fireplace. As you took another sip of your wine, you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable Namjoon was in this environment—the ease with which he moved through the room, greeting people and making them laugh. His energy was contagious, and the way his friends reacted to him—warm, animated, full of admiration—was proof of the bond he shared with them.

“What’s going on here?” you said, half-teasing, as you watched him chat with a group by the fireplace. He’d just taken a seat on the couch, and you leaned over the back of it, one of your hands naturally moving over his shoulder and resting against his chest.

“I think I’m being serenaded by Taehyung,” Namjoon looked up at you, his smile widening as he caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but grin. His hand quickly found yours, intertwining your fingers together as he leaned back comfortably into the couch and you.

“Really? A serenade?” you raised an eyebrow, intrigued and amused at the same time.

Namjoon chuckled, a soft smile creeping into his face as he glanced at Taehyung across the room. “Yeah. Didn’t see that coming, but it’s pretty great.”

You followed his gaze to where Taehyung, guitar in hand, was effortlessly filling the space with a beautiful melody. Namjoon’s smile softened as he listened, his eyes briefly closing as he relaxed into the music.

“Tell him your taken,” you whisper, brushing your lips over his temple, convincing yourself that you were just playing your role.

Namjoon’s shoulders shook with a soft laugh as you whispered in his ear, the warmth of your breath sending a shiver down his spine. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, his expression both amused and tender. “I think he knows I’m taken,” he teased, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, as if grounding you both in this moment.

You smiled, the words lingering in the air for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Your heart raced, but it wasn't from the playful banter. It was the quiet reminder that even though you were pretending, this—this closeness, this connection—was something far more real than you had allowed yourself to admit.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as it met yours. “But just so you know,” he added, his voice low and teasing, “I’m not sharing my spot on the couch.”

You laughed quietly, settling further into his side, the warmth of his body against yours giving you a sense of peace that you hadn’t expected. “That’s fine. I’m going to go get another glass of wine. Do you want one?”

Namjoon’s hand gave yours a gentle squeeze as he leaned back, his eyes briefly fluttering closed. “Yeah, I'll take one,” he said, his voice relaxed but still playful. “But make sure you get something strong, ‘cause I’m pretty sure the boys are about to turn that guitar into a full-on concert.”

You giggle softly, standing up and threading your way to the kitchen. As you walked, you silently thanked whatever deity had smiled on you, allowing the evening to go so smoothly.

That is, until you turned the corner into the kitchen and froze, hearing your name called out loudly over the small crowd.

Before you could react, Meyong appeared from the crowd and wrapped you in a bear hug, squeezing all the air from your lungs.

“Wait—what the hell?” Meyong’s voice was loud, her words slightly slurred, and it only took a second before your mom-friend instincts kicked in. You cupped her flushed cheeks as she grinned up at you, her eyes full of excitement. “Oh my god, you’re here!”

“Meyong, hi,” you managed, trying not to panic.

“It’s so good to see you!” she mumbled the words happily, staring at you with that familiar starry-eyed admiration. The alcohol on her breath was evident, but you couldn’t help but smile at her infectious energy.

“It’s good to see you too,” you responded, returning the hug. But inside, your mind was racing. If Meyong was here, then Jin was probably somewhere in the mix, and that only meant one thing—this night was about to get tangled. This meant that there was no chance to avoid taking this home with you, because Meyong and Jin would undoubtedly tell absolutely everyone back home. You almost scolded yourself for forgetting the fact that your ex-roommates would also be visiting.

“When Hoseok said Joonie is bringing over a girl I just knew it was you,” she slurred sweetly, blinking affectionately at you

“And why is that?” you chuckled, trying to steer her away from the potential disaster of what she might say next as you unwrapped her hands from around you and gently pulled her toward the fridge to get her some water.

“Because you always had the fattest crush on Joonie.” She deadpanned. “Like, I knew you two were banging once you moved in together.”

“Oh my god Meyong! Keep your voice down!” you blushed furiously, quickly glancing around to make sure no one around heard your absurd conversation. This was exactly what you needed—your best friend, totally oblivious, blurting out something that could easily ruin the delicate balance you were pretending to maintain.

“Aww, Mrs. big shot lawyer is scared of talking about her feelings,” she giggled, taking the water bottle from you and twisting it. “So tell me? When did this all happen? And why didn’t you tell me you were fucking?”

You felt your heart skip a beat at her words, the colour rising in your cheeks in a way that felt downright painful. “Meyong, please, you’re making it worse,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice low while glancing around again, hoping no one was eavesdropping.

Her grin only widened as she took a long sip from the water bottle, totally oblivious to the chaos she was causing. “What? I’m just saying, it’s obvious you two are more than perfect for each other. How’s the sex?” her smile was almost wicked when she wriggled her eyebrows.

But then, as if a lightbulb went off in her head, her expression shifted, and her eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Jin owes me 100 bucks!” she said, as if everything made sense.

You blinked, a mixture of confusion and frustration flooding your system. “What?” you managed to get out, feeling like you were on the verge of losing your sanity. “Why does Jin owe you money?”

“We made a bet, he said there is no way Namjoon has the balls to confess to you, but I won!” She smiled, tacking on an unwarranted “Namjoon has balls!”

You stared at her, trying to process what she had just said. “Wait, hold on,” you said, your voice a mix of disbelief and embarrassment. “Jin bet against Namjoon confessing to me?”

Meyong nodded vigorously, clearly proud of herself, but before she could elaborate, Jin walked in.

“There you are,” his voice cut through the conversation, his face a mix of relief and amusement at the state his girlfriend was in, “I figured I’d find you here gossiping.” he looked directly at Meyong, carefully collecting her in his arms, keeping her steady.

“You owe me money,” she muttered looking up at him, completely undeterred by his shushing.

“Yeah, I figured,” he replied unamused. He carefully adjusted his grip on Meyong, who was swaying just slightly in his arms, looking utterly pleased with herself.

Jin’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his tone shifting slightly. “Just for the record, I just figured that since Namjoon never made a move when you first met, that it would never happen.”

Jin’s words hit you like a bolt of lightning. You blinked, trying to process what he’d just said, your mind racing with confusion and disbelief.

“Namjoon liked me?”

Just then the subject of your gossip session walked in, his warm hand gently squeezing your shoulder.

You turned quickly, almost startled, as Namjoon’s presence loomed behind you. His hand on your shoulder was steady, grounding, and yet there was an unmistakable tension in the air. He must’ve sensed something was off from the way you were standing, the way your eyes lingered on him, wide with surprise.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly, his gaze flicking between you and Jin, his voice a little too casual.

Before you could respond, Meyong, still blissfully unaware of the tension she’d stirred, grinned at Namjoon. “Okay, spill. You’re dating now?” Her tone was loud enough to catch the attention of the people around you, and you felt your cheeks heat instantly. “It’s new,” Namjoon said smoothly, the practiced ease of his response both reassuring and unnerving.

“New?!” Meyong repeated, letting out a laugh that was just a little too loud. She turned to Jin, “I told you! You owe me money!” She gave a bubbly giggle, “They’re idiots in love. What did I say, babe?”

“You said it every chance you got,” Jin said dryly, though he was clearly enjoying himself, his arm protectively wrapping around her waist. “For years.”

You groaned internally, shooting Namjoon a quick glance. He gave you a subtle nod, like he was silently reminding you to play along, that he will fix it all later.

“Well, it just made sense,” you then added, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. “We work well together. That’s all.”

Meyong squinted at you, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, honey. That’s all?” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. “You telling me you’ve been sharing an apartment with him and you haven’t been climbing him like a Christmas tree every chance you got? I see the hickeys!”

You allowed yourself a second to cuss out Namjoon in your mind, trying your best not to let your face drop too dramatically.

“Meyong,” you hissed, mortified, your face burning as you felt Namjoon laugh besides you, acutely aware of his hand that found its way to your hip, pulling you into his side.

“What?” she said innocently, though her grin only widened. “I’m just saying, if I’d been living with Jin before we got together...”

“Okay!” Jin interjected, raising his hands like a referee calling for a timeout. “Let’s not traumatize our friends tonight.”

“Oh baby, we can tell them about the sex book!”

You felt your entire body flush, unable to hide the growing heat in your cheeks. “Meyong, stop!” you managed to stammer, looking desperately around the room for a distraction, but it was clear that nothing could save you now. Namjoon, however, only chuckled softly, his hand resting casually on your hip as if he were fully aware of the storm he had just inadvertently stirred up.

Meyong's grin grew impossibly wider as she wiggled her eyebrows at you. “What? It's not like we're all virgins here. We know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“Please, for the love of all things holy,” you muttered, half laughing, half mortified.

Jin, clearly amused but still calm, gave you a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to listen to her. She’s been drinking, and her filter is long gone by now.”

Namjoon’s chuckle rumbled beside you, and he gave your hip a playful squeeze. “Don’t worry,” he said in a low, teasing voice, “She’s just excited to be part of the gossip.”

“Yeah, thanks for the water, it was nice seeing you guys,” It was almost as if Jin could sense the awkwardness clinging to you, and he lovingly tried to maneuver his girlfriend towards a seat, but she twisted in his arms,

“Babe, but the book!”

Jin shook his head with a bemused smile, clearly used to this side of Meyong, taking her hands and wrapping them around his neck as they walked. “We’ll talk about the book later,” he said calmly, gently pulling her along to the couch before she could launch into any more embarrassing details about their private life.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, the tension slowly melting from your shoulders. Glancing over at Namjoon, you half expected him to wear that casual smile of his, but instead, you were met with an almost sombre look, as if that conversation took the same toll on him.

“About that strong drink,” his eyes avoided yours, and before you could respond, he reached for a bottle of whiskey on the counter, his hand pausing midair as if he was weighing the situation. He let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh before grabbing the bottle and pouring himself a generous amount into a glass.

You tilted your head slightly, watching him carefully. There was something in his movements, a shift you hadn’t expected, and it made you wonder if the playful atmosphere had affected him more than he let on.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart racing as you stood beside him. Your fingers grazed the edge of his glass as you instinctively reached out to steady it.

Namjoon gave a fleeting smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He took a long gulp from his glass, his gaze briefly shifting away. “Yeah,” he replied, though the word lacked conviction, like he was trying to convince himself just as much as you.

Your hand found his, your thumb tracing over his knuckles gently. His words hung in the air, and something in the way he said them made your chest tighten, an uncomfortable feeling settling between you two.

He finally met your gaze, and in that moment, it was as if everything else around you disappeared. The music, the laughter, the chatter—none of it mattered. It was just the two of you standing there, caught in the quiet space between words. He parted his lips, like he was on the verge of saying something, but then he faltered, swallowing hard instead and finishing his drink in one long, steady pull.

The silence stretched between you both, heavy and thick, but neither of you moved. You could feel the weight of his emotions, even though he hadn’t said a word. It was in the way he held himself, the way his fingers tightened around his glass before he set it down on the counter with a quiet clink.

“I-” Namjoon began, but then he stopped, shaking his head slightly, as if he wasn’t sure where to start. “I think I need some air.”

You nodded, understanding more than he could probably know. “Okay,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand one more time before you let go.

Namjoon gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his shoulders lifting in a resigned breath before he stepped past you and toward the door leading out to the balcony. You watched him for a moment, chewing your lip as a million different thoughts unleashed in your mind. Maybe this was it—the moment that he realized everything had been a mistake. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been aware of the consequences so far. But perhaps now he regretted ever asking you to come along, regretted just how big the lie you spun has gotten, how it was now seeping back into your day-to-day life back home.

You lingered for a while, lost in the muddle of your thoughts, trying to steady the whirlwind in your chest. Minutes passed, but nothing seemed to quiet your restless mind. Pouring yourself a glass of wine offered only a fleeting sense of calm—kike standing in the eye of a hurricane while the chaos swirled just out of grasp.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes, you grabbed a water bottle—a little gesture that somehow cemented your resolve. You reminded yourself that this was simply what a good friend would do, and with that thought, you headed towards the balcony.

As you reached the door, you hesitated for just a second, unsure if you should interrupt the space he had taken for himself. But the thought of leaving him alone, unsure, and potentially unravelling further without you there, spurred you forward.

You stepped outside quietly, the cold air hitting your face and clearing your mind.

Namjoon was leaning against the railing, eyes staring out at the city lights, distant and lost in thought. His posture was tense, his body language closed off, like he was carrying the weight of something heavy.

Taking a slow breath, you walked up beside him, offering the water bottle as a simple gesture. “Thought you might need this,” you said gently, your voice soft against the backdrop of the night.

Namjoon glanced at you, a brief flicker of something in his eyes before he looked back out at the view. His hand hovered over the bottle, but he didn’t take it immediately. The silence between you two felt thick, but you weren’t in a rush for him to fill it with words.

The faint blush across his cheeks was still evident even in the cold air, and being this close, you could catch the scent of spiced wine and whiskey on his breath. Maybe that was why you didn’t question it—his intentions—when he leaned in ever so slightly, caging you against the railing of the balcony. His eyes searched yours, his lips tantalizingly close, the space between you evaporating as his breath brushed against your skin.

Your fingers gripped the cold metal of the railing, grounding yourself as the city lights blurred behind him, their brightness eclipsed by the intensity of his gaze.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He said softly, his voice low and almost reverent, as if even voicing the thought would break the spell.

You let out a breathy laugh, a huff of exasperation you couldn’t quite contain. “Namjoon,” you said, barely above a whisper. “There’s no one around.”

The words should have been a reason to stop, to call this what it was: a charade, a performance. But instead, his lips curved into the faintest of smiles, his eyes shimmering with something you couldn’t name.

“I know,” he murmured. His lips hovered just above yours, his breath mingling with yours in the chilled air, reminding you just how intoxicated you both were.

For a heartbeat, he froze, as though waiting for you to stop him.

But you didn’t.

The kiss was soft at first, a tentative exploration, as though he was waiting for you to pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him, he pressed harder, more insistent. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was the shattering of every barrier you’d built, the collapse of all your carefully laid plans to keep this friendship intact, to keep it fake.

Your hands found his chest, clutching at the fabric of his sweater as his moved to cup your face, tilting you closer like you were something precious. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, sending shivers down your spine as he deepened the kiss, his resolve crumbling as fast as yours.

He left you breathless, every nerve in your body alight, your chest rising and falling in sync with his. The warmth of his forehead against yours grounded you for a moment, as if the world had tilted on its axis, the alcohol in your blood suddenly going to your head, and this was the only thing holding you steady.

His forehead stayed pressed against yours, his breath shaky when he pulled back. You stood there, still reeling from the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest as his breath mingled with yours. The warmth of his forehead against yours felt like the only anchor in a sea of confusion. You weren’t sure if you were both still caught up in the intoxication of the night, the wine and whiskey blurring your sense of reality, or if there was something deeper at play.

But then he spoke, voice raw, hoarse, like the word scraped out of his throat, and cut through the haze.

“Fuck.”

It was the kind of word that felt like a confession, like a moment of clarity in the middle of chaos. And as much as you wanted to believe it was just a slip, a fleeting moment brought on by alcohol and the weight of your shared history, something deep inside you couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that.

You pulled back slightly, your hands still resting against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. His eyes were wide, almost panicked, searching yours as if looking for something—anything—that would make this make sense. But nothing did. Not the kiss, not his reaction, and certainly not the way your heart refused to calm down.

This had been a mistake, hadn’t it?

A drunken mistake. A slip. And now, standing in the aftermath, you couldn't tell whether you were relieved or devastated.

His lips parted like he was going to say something, but then the words fell short. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog that had settled over him.

“I… I didn’t mean to… I don’t know what I was thinking,” Namjoon muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

You swallowed hard, your hands still gripping his sweater as you tried to make sense of it all. “Neither did I.”

The weight of the moment hung heavy between you, both of you searching for an explanation, but finding absolutely none.

201 notes View Post

callmenoona25

6 months ago

I’m so, so happy this fic finally got a new chapter! I was so sad thinking it would be left unfinished. I love the idea of y/n and jk pining for Namjoon! Omg and the smut!!!! Please can I be the filling in a namkook sandwich? 😆

Love, Lust & Litigation | Ch 7 (JJK, KNJ)

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader x Namjoon

Genre: lawyer!AU, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, drinking, explicit sexual content, threesome, oral sex (m + f receiving), protected penetrative sex (m + f receiving), slight dom!namjoon

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: she's heeeeere, took a long time bc smut is hard, y'all. all that's left is the epilogue. unbeta'd bc fck it we ball, enjoyyy 💜✨

mlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | interlude | ch 6 | ch 7 | epilogue

“You’re leaving?”

Everyone pauses in a collective inhale, the moment suspended in time.

Then, Namjoon flinches at the question, the world fast forwards back into action, and you remember that you’re in public, that this is a work dinner, and that you’re meeting peers in your industry. You swallow the burst of panic, and look over at Jungkook. He half-stands, as if he’s about to wrestle Namjoon to the ground and never let him leave. Guilt shadows Namjoon’s face as he looks at the two of you.

None of you have done a good enough job of moderating your features because Jackson immediately backtracks.

“Hey bro, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was a secret. I shouldn’t have—“

“Don’t stress about it, man,” says Namjoon, turning to his friend with an easygoing smile, that diplomatic mask he wears in important meetings. You hate it. “I was going to announce it when we got back on Monday anyway.”

You pull Jungkook back to sitting with a hand on his arm. He fiddles with the napkin on his lap before looking up at you, a lost look on his face that mirrors how you’re feeling on the inside.

The reunion between Namjoon and Jackson doesn’t last much longer, the easy chat between the old college friends now strained. You reach for your drink as Namjoon wraps up the conversation, but your hand shakes too much when you pick it up. He’s your boss, just another face at the office, you try to tell yourself. The wine glass sits on the table, abandoned.

As he says his final niceties, Namjoon stays facing towards Jackson, watching his retreating back for a long moment. He takes a deep breath and steels his shoulders before he turns back to the table. He tries to act nonchalant as he takes a sip of his wine. His hands don’t shake, and the stiff smile stays on his face.

“So.” Jungkook breaks the silence that hangs heavy over your group. “You’re leaving.”

The accusation sits at the table, a fourth dinner companion making everyone ill at ease.

Namjoon nods in response. Jungkook purses his lips and worries his lip ring, waiting for an actual answer. Namjoon’s eyes flit to your face, but you keep quiet. Silence has as much power as any question to get answers. He knows this; he taught you.

“Remember the songwriter we represented?”

The sudden change of topic throws you for a loop. “What does this have to do with her?”

Namjoon twirls his wineglass between his fingers. “She wanted new in-house counsel, and reached out last month. She was really pleased with how the firm handled her case.”

“How I handled her case,” you say sharply.

It stings that she didn’t reach out to you first. Of course she reached out to Namjoon first, though; she melted at the merest hint of Namjoon’s dimple during your initial meeting. Maybe you’re pissed that you melted at the merest hint of a dimple. And now here’s the owner of the dimple, deserting you. Or at least, that’s what it feels like. You don’t want to acknowledge that you’re not even a blip on his radar in his decision-making process because at the end of the day, you’re just a junior employee in the firm.

He tilts his head in acknowledgement, and your temper deflates as quickly as it ignited. You brush the interjection out of the air with your hands and go back to the matter at hand.

“I thought you loved your job at Bang and Associates.”

You hate that your voice cracks a bit while you speak.

“Your friend was right, you were about to make partner. Why now?”

Jungkook’s voice sounds so much stronger than yours, and you hate him a little for that too.

“Personal reasons.”

You and Jungkook scoff in unison. Not a good enough answer.

“It’s a lot of things.” Namjoon studies the glass in his hands while he considers his answer. “The long hours are a big part of it. If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve been feeling more like a robot than a person these days. I was ready to say no when her team reached out, but after I slept on it, I realized, I have no life outside the firm. Weekends are nonexistent. Everything is a fire that needs put out, ASAP. This will be a good change.”

The tension drains from the conversation. This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen your boss. To fault him for this reasoning, for being human, would be childish and petty.

Namjoon reaches for the wine and helps himself to a generous pour.

“You know, she asked about you, Jungkook.” You can tell he’s just trying to change the subject, bring the conversation back to something more light-hearted, but the sudden turn leaves you off-kilter again.

“Who?”

“The singer. She wanted your number for, ah… personal reasons. I had to tell her you were otherwise engaged.”

Namjoon’s gaze flicks to yours briefly, and you can’t stop a flush creeping up your cheeks.

“Yeah.” Jungkook’s hand makes its way back to your thigh and you place your hand on his. “I am.”

Namjoon clocks this movement and clears his throat.

“How did this all start anyway? Usually, you can tell when people in the office are about to get together, but it took a lot of us by surprise.”

You make a face. “I didn’t realize we were such a hot topic of conversation.”

“Everyone talks,” he says with a shrug.

You and Jungkook exchange a look. Tonight’s revelation has sent everything into a tailspin. What’s one more to the mix? Jungkook shrugs at your unasked question.

“Mutual pining,” you say, turning back to Namjoon.

He raises an eyebrow. “For each other?”

“For you,” says Jungkook.

Namjoon chokes on his wine.

It’s a relief to finally say it out loud. To admit it. Your hand tightens on Jungkook’s while you wait for Namjoon to recover.

“Me?”

“During the Christmas party. We got to talking, and… ” Jungkook looks at you for reassurance, and you squeeze his hand. “Turns out we were both head over heels for you.”

“Wait… were?”

Each new turn in this conversation feels like another landmine being triggered, blasting you into the unknown.

“Are,” you say. “Present tense.”

Jungkook lets out a sharp breath. “Yeah. Still are.”

Namjoon doesn’t meet either of your gazes across the table, eyes focused on the bottle of wine in the middle of the table instead. You bite your lip to stop yourself from saying anything else. All your cards are on the table.

Namjoon runs a hand over his face before speaking. “You’re only saying this because I’m leaving.”

“You’re only asking because you’re leaving,” you retort.

“Look, we’re all chicken-shits when it comes to this, okay?” says Jungkook, putting a placating hand down on the table. “But we’ve said our part. We both like you, a lot. And we’re hoping you like both of us, too. Together.”

Namjoon looks like words are stuck in his throat.

After a long moment, you scoff, shaking your head. “Yoongi was right, then, when he said—“

“Yoongi says a lot of things.”

“Was he pulling it out of his ass, hmm? When he said you were too hung up on doing the right thing instead of going for what you want?”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret them. A muscle tics in Namjoon’s cheek as he clenches his jaw.

“Fuck. Sorry, I —“

Before you can finish your sentence, Jungkook pulls you up to standing.

“We’re gonna go get the check. And we’ll wait for you at the hotel. Take your time.”

You glance back once as Jungkook leads you through the restaurant. Namjoon slumps in his chair, staring out over the city.

Your footsteps echo in the hotel room as you pace. The TV makes a tinny attempt to fill the hollow emptiness with the sounds of a syndicated sitcom. You stop every so often at the window to look out at the buildings disappearing into the low clouds tinged yellow by the city lights.

By the second episode of the sitcom, you’ve exhausted your patience for canned laughter and stilted acting. You flop on the couch next to Jungkook and flip through the channels, trying to find something, anything, to distract you. Every channel is celebrating Valentie’s Day by playing sappy romcoms. The swelling string music and moon-eyed pretty people annoy you even more than the canned laughter, and you turn the TV off in frustration.

Jungkook has his phone out, swiping aimlessly on TikTok and you join him in pretending to watch as the memes go by.

“Did I go too far? At the restaurant?”

“I don’t know.”

You sit on the couch for what seems like hours before the door lock beeps open.

You’re on your feet before you can think, Jungkook beside you. It’s out of a scene in one of those stupid romantic movies, how the door swings open in slow motion and Namjoon appears, bringing a chill in with him.

“Oh, hi,” he says when he sees the both of you looking at him like spooked deer. His cheeks are red with either cold or embarrassment. “Um, I thought about it on the way here, and I’m in.”

Your heart jumps into your throat, but you don’t let yourself process the words because he’s started to shiver. His shoulders are damp and droplets of water cling to his hair.

“Did you walk here in the rain?”

He runs his hand through his hair. Strands clump together where he runs his hand through.

“Snowing.”

You turn to the window. Flurries dance in the air, blurring the cityscape, softening the harsh lights from the buildings nearby.

“I’ll get you a towel.”

When you return from the bathroom, Jungkook has already taken the wet suit jacket and is in the process of draping it over a chair. Namjoon stands sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You hand him the towel, wanting to run it through his hair, but not having the courage to reach up and do so.

His cheeks stay red once he’s done rubbing his hair dry. You’re flushed too, because now you’ve had time to actually process what he said when he came in. Should you bring it up now?

He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and exhales harshly through his nose instead. Jungkook worries his lip piercing and picks at the skin around his nails. You stand between them, heart pounding in your chest. You’re all standing at the precipice but you don’t know how to take the leap.

Namjoon clears his throat before speaking.

“Um, I don’t know if you heard before but—“ he clears his throat again “—I’m in. For whatever this is.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and you can’t bring yourself to produce words. Jungkook looks equally shell-shocked.

The moment drags on in silence.

“I’m trying to be brave but neither of you are saying anything?” The words should sound harsh, but you’ve never heard Namjoon sound so unsure, so small.

“Now that we’re here, I…” You wish you sounded more confident.

“Here,” Jungkook says as he reaches out to take Namjoon’s hand. Namjoon looks down at his hand as if he’s never seen it before. You follow suit, and Namjoon looks at you with a fragile hope that makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Don’t overthink it,” says Jungkook. He’s talking to Namjoon, but you try to take the words to heart, too.

“I don’t think I know how to do that.”

He rests his chin on Namjoon’s shoulder. “Just be here,” he says. “Take it one step at a time.”

“How?”

“Start like this.”

Jungkook guides Namjoon’s hand to his cheek, and leans into it, closing his eyes.

“What’s next?” asks Jungkook, voice gentle.

Namjoon’s thumb runs over his lips. Jungkook lets out a shuddery exhale. The tension in his body shows he’s holding back, letting Namjoon move at his own pace, as if Namjoon were a rare and skittish animal.

“And then?”

Namjoon rests his forehead against Jungkook’s and slowly, inevitably, their lips connect. It’s chaste, just a press of lips against lips, but Jungkook melts into it, letting out the tiniest little whimper.

It’s something so intimate, you falter back a step, your hold on Namjoon’s hand going slack. But before you can pull away, Namjoon’s grip tightens and tugs you in closer. He turns to look at you, the expression on his face tender, and scared. His hand comes to stroke your cheek too, and it makes you want to cry, how delicately he’s handling you.

It takes just a second, but feels like an eternity for him to press his lips to yours, for you to rise onto your toes to meet him halfway. You feel again like you’re on the edge of something, like any second, everything is about to change. You don’t know what you expected, but what you get is the softest lips, plush against yours. Gentle, chaste. A fairytale ending kiss that teases what’s to come.

As Namjoon opens his lips against yours, you’re dizzy with the realization that you’ve been over the precipice, already falling headlong into the unknown, the first step taken hours, days, maybe even weeks ago.

He turns to Jungkook and kisses him again, deeper. Jungkook whines as Namjoon bites his lower lip. Then he turns to you, and you taste Jungkook on Namjoon’s lips. And with a sigh of relief, everything clicks into place. There was a missing piece in your life and it was this, you and Namjoon and Jungkook, together.

“What’s next?” asks Namjoon, eyes closed as he speaks into the disappearing space between the three of you.

You tug and are tugged to the couch where Jungkook pushes Namjoon to sit. Jungkook sits on one side and you sit on the other, bringing his face towards you and you kiss him once, twice, then run your lips up his jawline and down his neck, inhaling the scent of him, musky and heady. Jungkook turns Namjoon’s head and kisses him like he wants to devour him whole.

Namjoon’s shirt collar gets in the way of your quest to discover the spot that makes him squirm, and you unbutton the first couple of buttons of his shirt to get access. He hisses when you nip at the spot just where his neck meets his shoulder.

You spend some time in your new favorite place, tasting and teasing with tongue and teeth, but the new inches of golden skin aren’t enough. You straddle one of Namjoon’s spread legs and work on unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. Jungkook looks on as work your way down. His hand comes to rest on Namjoon’s upper thigh, fingers tracing light circles. You pull out the tucked-in ends of the shirt and let it fall open.

“Wow.”

The word sighs out from your lips as you sit back to look. Because Namjoon Kim is magnificent, skin glowing golden in the lamplight. Jungkook's muscles are more defined, but there's power underneath his skin. Everything you see makes you want to take a bite.

Your gaze works its way up to his face, and the look in his eyes sends a shiver of want straight to the heat between your legs.

Jungkook smirks at your reaction. “Never gets old.”

“You’ve been keeping this to yourself,” you say, accusingly.

Namjoon rumbles out a chuckle as Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m selfish. But it’s nice, right?” Jungkook says into Namjoon’s neck, where he starts on sucking a mark into the exposed skin. Namjoon's eyes close and he leans into the sensation.

More than nice, you think, letting your fingertips graze over Namjoon’s stomach. His muscles jump at your touch, eyes flying open.

“Ah, your hands are cold,”

“They’ll warm up eventually,” Jungkook answers on your behalf.

Your hands wander up, landing on his pecs. Namjoon grunts when you give them a squeeze. You bite your lip to suppress a giggle. They’re as good as you imagined, firm and warm under your touch.

“What’s so funny, baby?”

The nickname uttered in his husky voice makes your core clench.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for along time,” you say, giving them another squeeze.

“And I’ve been wanting to do this.”

Namjoon’s hand comes to the curve of your ass and he squeezes, bringing you closer, guiding your hips to grind down. God, his thighs. You bite back a moan.

He turns to Jungkook and puts a hand on his waist.

“And this.”

He kisses Jungkook’s neck as he palms the front of Jungkook’s straining pants. Jungkook’s eyes shut and he exhales out a groan.

You almost can’t believe it. Being here, with the two of them like this.

Namjoon’s hands press down on your hips, and you roll your hips down again, the feeling of his muscles between your legs making you slick. But, as much as you want to get lost in the sensation and get yourself off on Namjoon’s thighs, you have much more pressing matters at hand.

You start at his collarbones, kissing your way down his chest, grazing his nipples with your teeth. He hisses at the contact, and you do it again just to feel him squirming beneath you. You clamber off the couch and settle between his spread legs, kissing all the way down until you reach the waistband of his pants. They’re both looking at you, waiting to see what you’ll do next. You bite your lip in anticipation as you unbutton and unzip his pants.

His cock springs free when you take both his pants and boxers off, the tip dark, ready. You take him in your hands, and the weight of him, how he could feel inside you, makes your mouth water.

He’s holding his breath as you lean down. You meet his eyes as you wrap your lips around the head. He lets out a shuddery breath as your tongue comes out to tease the tip.

“Fuck.”

Both mean speak in unison. You press open-mouthed kisses against the shaft as you work your way down to the base, then lick a stripe up to the top. Jungkook meets you at the tip, capturing your mouth, licking into you, then onto Namjoon.

He lowers his head onto Namjoon’s cock, and as he comes back up, you switch places, and take turns taking him deeper and deeper each time. Namjoon’s fingers twine through your hair, his other hand tangled in Jungkook’s wavy locks, setting the pace. His head falls back against the back of the couch.

The tip meets the back of your throat, and Namjoon’s hips twitch up into you.

“Shit, baby.”

His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as you pull off with a pop. Jungkook, never one to be outdone, sinks all the way down, nose pressed against Namjoon’s abdomen. You can see the moment he swallows.

“Fuck. Wait, wait. Stop.”

Namjoon pulls him off and covers his face with his hands. You sit back on your heels. Jungkook wipes his mouth as he exchanges looks with you. Did you do something wrong? Is he rethinking his decision? You don’t know what you’ll do if he changes his mind and doesn’t want to do this after all.

You wait for a long moment, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly.

“Sorry, it’s just… it’s too soon.” The sound comes muffled from behind his hands. “I don’t wanna come yet.”

Oh. You and Jungkook breathe sag in relief, the uncertainty draining from your body.

You stand and pull Namjoon's hands from his face and smooth his hair back.

“Don’t apologize.” One hands comes to rest against his jaw, thumb stroking his cheek. He looks overwhelmed and a little embarrassed. “We can take it slow.”

You’re close enough that your breath intermingles, and you watch as the embarrassment and worry on his face melt into incredulity and then into desire. He bridges the gap between you and leans up to kiss you. At first, it’s just a press of the lips, but you deepen the kiss, open mouthed, tongue tangling with his. He nips at your bottom lip and tugs a moan from you. His hands graze down your back and come to rest on your waist, hands bunching in the fabric.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he mutters under his breath.

Your hands fly to the back of your dress, but Namjoon stops you. He stands, and pulls you up with him. He turns to Jungkook, who has been sitting on his heels, watching, and points to the couch.

“Sit.”

Jungkook hoists himself up and goes to take his shirt off, but Namjoon shakes his head.

“Just wait.”

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow and puts his hands up in surrender. He sits on the edge of the couch, leaning forward on his elbows, eyes never leaving Namjoon.

He turns you to face Jungkook and stands behind you. With gentle hands, Namjoon finds the zipper of your dress and at a torturous pace, drags it down. A shiver runs down your spine as he brushes the dress off your shoulders. It pools around your ankles, leaving you in your bra and panties. He sweeps your hair to one side and presses his lips to your pulse point. The touch and the cool air send goosebumps across your skin.

Namjoon’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you tighter to him as he works a mark into your neck. You don’t know what to focus on, the feel of his lips on your neck, his cock pressed against your lower back, or the tips of his thumbs just barely grazing the underside of your breasts. Jungkook sits back on the couch, palming his erection over his jeans, gaze heavy on you. You know the look on his face, the patient hunger. The intense focus of it grows the heat pooling in your belly.

It’s almost a relief when Namjoon’s hands slip behind your back and take your bra off. He cups your breasts, and you arch into the warmth of his hands. He hums into your skin and you moan when he takes your nipples between his fingers, teasing them.

Your hand comes between your legs, pressing your fingers into the soaked fabric of your underwear. A whimper escapes through your lips at the stimulation.

Jungkook comes off the couch to kneel at your feet. He peels your underwear off you but before he can bury his nose between your legs, Namjoon’s voice stops him.

“I said, wait.”

Jungkook sits back on his feet with a little huff. Frustration plays across his face, but even so his pupils dilate as he looks up at Namjoon.

“Stand up.”

Cold air hits your body as Namjoon comes to stand in front of Jungkook. He makes quick work of Jungkook’s clothes, no lingering touches or caresses as he works buttons and zippers. Impatience doesn’t get rewarded.

Jungkook’s clothes join yours on the ground and Namjoon points to the nearest bedroom. Yours.

You spare a brief thought for the state of your bedroom — sometimes your clothes like to explode out of their suitcase through no fault of your own — but it’s pristine. You send a silent word of thanks up for daily hotel housekeeping.

“On the bed, both of you.”

It would be awkward to crawl on the bed fully naked were the anticipation of what’s to come not thrumming through your skin. You sit up against the headboard, Jungkook next to you, legs outstretched.

Namjoon gets on the bed and hovers over you to kiss you, tongue invading your mouth. Your hips jerk as he brings his hand between your legs and drags his knuckles over your slick folds. He doesn’t linger.

“Tease.”

He winks at you — which, somehow, makes you blush instead of rolling your eyes — as he leans over Jungkook and pulls him up by the chin. The kiss is all tongues and gasped breaths.

Namjoon pulls away, leaving Jungkook to fall back against the headboard, dazed. He kneels and wastes no time in putting Jungkook’s cock in his mouth, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s. He groans and reaches for Namjoon’s hair.

“Hands off,” says Namjoon around a mouthful of cock.

“Fuck.” Jungkook’s hands twist into the duvet as Namjoon dives back down.

The sight of the two of them, Jungkook’s muscles straining as he keeps his hands to himself, Namjoon taking Jungkook until his nose reaches his abdomen, has you pressing your legs together. You reach between your legs, desperate for any type of relief, but Namjoon stops you with a look.

Hands off for you, too.

You reach out a tentative hand toward Jungkook, and Namjoon sees, but doesn’t say anything. Tacit permission given, you spread your hand on Jungkook’s hip. He twitches at the contact, but doesn’t move.

You brush his hair back from his forehead with your other hand. “Staying so still. Such a good boy.”

He whines at the praise. “Ah fuck. Why does that fucking work for me?”

“Is this all you ever wanted?” you whisper in his ear. “Namjoon taking you so well.”

“God, yeah.”

Namjoon hums around his cock and you swallow the moan that rises from Jungkook's throat, kissing his pretty lips, sliding your tongue into his mouth.

It’s not long until he leans back.

“I’m gonna come,” he says with a gasp. You can feel his muscles tensing under your grip.

“Tell him that.”

“Fuck! I’m coming!”

Namjoon somehow smirks around a mouthful of cock and swallows to take Jungkook even deeper. Jungkook’s head presses back into the mattress as he comes with a groan down Namjoon’s throat.

Then, Namjoon pops off Jungkook’s cock and opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue to show he swallowed every last drop. You and Jungkook take twin gasps of breath. Fresh arousal pools between your legs. Not even in your wildest fantasies late at night alone in your room had you let yourself imagine that.

“Fuck. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” says Jungkook, letting his head drop back down onto the pillows. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, Namjoon’s hand lingering on his softening cock.

“Mmm,” says Namjoon, crawling up the bed to kiss the underside of Jungkook’s chin, as if he hadn’t just blown your minds. Jungkook pulls Namjoon in by the back of his neck for an open-mouthed kiss.

You squirm a little, pressing your thighs together, and Namjoon notices.

“You’ve been patient.” He bites his lip before he says, “Good girl.”

“Fuck. Why does that work for me?” you wail.

Jungkook laughs, as he lays back, spent. “Can dish it out but can’t take it.”

You go to smack his arm, but he catches your hand and twines his fingers with yours. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand before releasing it.

You look back at Namjoon.

“Well, do I get a treat for being a good girl?”

You let your legs fall open. Namjoon’s eyes follow your hands as you trace your curves down to the apex of your thighs.

“Is she always like this?” Namjoon asks, addressing Jungkook but looking at your fingers not quite touching where you want to be touched the most. Heat creeps up your cheeks as Namjoon’s gaze travels up your body to meet your eyes. You bite your lip. Namjoon’s gaze is intense on the best of days, but tonight, it burns.

“She behaves. Most of the time.”

“See?” you say with a coy smile, through burning cheeks. “I’m a good girl.”

Namjoon leans over you, getting close but not close enough for your lips to make contact.

“What if I don’t want you to be a good girl?” His lips brush over yours as he speaks. Heat shoots to your core.

“I can be whatever you want me to be.”

He breathes out a chuckle and presses a kiss to where your jaw meets your ear, and works his way down your neck, dropping a kiss on the tender spot he worked at earlier.

Where he was quick with Jungkook, he teases you, stopping at your breasts to take one nipple into his mouth. You arch up into his mouth at the contact, and he brings a hand to your waist to stop you from moving.

His big hands are gentle, but you want them to bruise.

Jungkook lays to the side and just watches at first, eyes glassy post-orgasm. As Namjoon continues down your body, Jungkook has you sit up a bit as he slides in behind you, bringing you to rest back down on him. He wraps an arm around your waist, and the other sinks into your hair, guiding your head to the side to work on marking the other side of your neck.

You’re dripping by the time Namjoon gets to your cunt. He runs a finger through your slick, and you shiver at the contact, hands twisting into the sheets. His eyes close as he tastes.

“Sweet,” he says, almost to himself.

He slowly settles between your legs, placing one above his shoulder, then the other. He drags it out, kissing your inner thighs as he makes his way closer and closer to your center.

You cry out when he finally licks a stripe up your slit. When he wraps his lips around your clit, you let out a strangled sob. He hums in satisfaction as you squirm at the contact. You’re so keyed up that the vibration has your eyes rolling back into your head. It’s much too fast, but not enough at the same time. You move your hips against his face, but he places a hand on your hip.

“You’re gonna stay still, like a good girl?” Jungkook whispers in your ear.

“Yes. Fuck.”

Your promise is hard to keep as Namjoon slips a finger into you. It takes every ounce of willpower to not clamp your legs around him.

“Damn, baby. So tight.”

His voice against you, deep and rumbling, makes you clench even tighter around his finger. He adds another finger, working you open, mouth on your clit, tongue teasing with every thrust.

Jungkook takes your breast in his hand and teases the nipple between his fingers, keeps breathing obscenities in your ear when his mouth isn’t on your skin. Your orgasm builds with every thrust of Namjoon’s fingers, with every dirty word Jungkook whispers in your ears.

You whine as Namjoon adds a third finger and presses insistently against your sweet spot. Your gasping breaths and the lewd sound of his fingers moving in and out of you fill the room.

“You’re gonna be a good girl, and come for us?” Jungkook breathes against your ear.

You nod, head pressed against Jungkook's, and whine out a yes.

Namjoon sucks against your clit and you can’t hold still anymore. Your hands come to his hair and you hold him in place as you fuck your self against his face. He hums against you in amusement and that pushes you over the edge. Pleasure ripples over you in waves, core clenching, Namjoon’s name on your lips. His fingers fuck you through your orgasm, mouth never letting go of your clit. It’s not until your hands push him off you that his fingers slip from your cunt.

Your heart thuds in your chest as Namjoon slips out from under your legs and you come back down to Earth. You miss the warmth of him between your legs already, even though you’re so sensitive you might cry at another touch.

He climbs up on the bed, kneeling into the bed between your thighs. You almost come again when he puts his slick-soaked fingers between Jungkook’s lips. It’s sinful, the way Jungkook takes his time licking one finger clean, then the other.

Namjoon replaces his fingers with his tongue. Jungkook’s moans reverberate against your back. You press up towards them, joining in a mess of tongues, skin on skin, breaths heavy. Hands and lips wander, discovering sensitive areas, staking claim on curves and hollows.

Jungkook is hard again against your back, and Namjoon’s stiff cock pokes into your stomach. Their movement makes his thigh graze against your still-sensitive core. You gasp at the first contact, still sensitive, but your skin cries out for more. Fingernails press into his waist as you pull him closer to grind against his thigh. He grunts in surprise at the movement, but meets you thrust for thrust. You’re on the verge of crying from how sensitive you are but still you want more.

“Needy,” says Jungkook between open mouthed kisses.

“Shut it,” you whine.

Namjoon breathes a chuckle before kissing Jungkook once more. He grinds down into you until you see stars, then sits back on his heels. Cold air sweeps across your skin, and behind you, Jungkook lets out a whimper in protest. You pout at the distance.

“How do you want this?” His eyes search yours, then Jungkook’s, hesitant hope written out across his features.

You sit up, still nestled between Jungkook’s legs.

Jungkook speaks first, propped up on his elbows behind you. “It’s not about what we want. Not tonight.”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking at Namjoon as he kneels before you. “How do you want us?”

His face scrunches as he battles with himself, and you wait. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on your shoulder, and his thumbs caresses your hip, a mindless habit he’s picked up. You both wait as Namjoon bites his bottom lip, deliberating asking for what he really wants.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, cheeks flaming bright red as he speaks.

“I want Jungkook to fuck me, while I fuck you.”

A new wave of arousal flows through you as you let out a shuddery breath.

“Fuck.” Jungkook shifts behind you on the bed. “Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. One sec.”

He slips out from behind you and clambers off the bed, nearly sprinting out of the room.

Namjoon slumps down on the bed beside you, face up, as if his request took too much out of him. You reach down to stroke his cheek. He’s flushed, chest rising and falling. His hand covers yours, fingers warm, strong as they link with yours.

“You all good?” you ask.

“Yeah, just overwhelmed.” He places your hand over his heart and you can feel it beating strong, fast. “Overwhelmed but good. I didn’t think this where we would end up tonight.”

“None of us did, but I think we all hoped.”

Jungkook bounds back into the room and drops a box of condoms and a travel-size bottle of lube on the bed.

“Supplies!” he says as he bounces back onto the bed, the impact jostling you and Namjoon.

You all laugh at his excitement and you reach across Namjoon to pull Jungkook into a sweet kiss.

“Always so optimistic,” you say with a smile.

“Always prepared, that’s all.” He gives you your favorite smile, all scrunched up in happiness and you can’t resist pulling him in for another kiss. Namjoon props himself up on his elbows and joins in. Lips wander, hands caress, and you all get distracted for a few minutes, enjoying the feel of each other finally in this place, together.

Then, Jungkook pulls away and asks, “Um… how do we…”

“Here,” you say, laying on your back and pulling Namjoon on top of you, ass up. The weight of him on you is satisfying, like the world’s best weighted blanket. He props himself up on his elbows, one on each side of your head.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” you respond.

Jungkook kneels and rubs his hands on Namjoon’s back, massaging his spine as he kisses his way down to his lower back. Namjoon closes his eyes and hums at the sensation. You reach up and stroke his cheek. Jungkook kneads Namjoon’s cheeks, spreading them, about to start.

He hesitates. “Is this the first time you…”

“No, but it’s been a while.” Namjoon inhales sharply as the first drops of lube hit his ass. “Why is it always cold, though?”

Jungkook’s hands spread the lube around, warming the area, teasing Namjoon’s rim. It’s like you can feel Jungkook’s hands on you, as Namjoon closes his eyes to the sensation, body moving naturally against the other man. He buries his face into your neck and the noises he’s making send you breathing heavy, too.

Your hand comes to the back of his neck, nails lightly scratching against his short hair.

Jungkook works a finger in, slowly, gently. Namjoon tenses at the intrusion, but then relaxes against you with a moan.

“Good?” asks Jungkook, rubbing small circles into Namjoon’s back.

“Fuck. Yeah, good. Good.”

Jungkook drops a kiss to Namjoon’s back, and pushes slowly in and out to get him used to the feeling. You pull Namjoon into a kiss, exploring his mouth with all the languid movements of Jungkook behind him.

“You can add another.”

And Jungkook, patient, the most patient you’ve ever seen him, works another finger into Namjoon’s hole, working him open.

“Shit. You’re so tight.”

Namjoon lifts his head and you see the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. Namjoon looking five different kinds of fucked out, pupils blown, pleasure the only thing on his face. You prop one of your knees up and his cock slips between your legs, teasing your entrance. As he fucks himself back onto Jungkook’s fingers, you move against him, craving the friction, more, more.

“I think I’m ready,” says Namjoon.

Foil packets get ripped open, condoms put on, and logistically, the first position you’re in doesn’t work out. Namjoon lines himself up with your entrance and Jungkook tries to position himself behind Namjoon, but the angle is all wrong. You’re ready to give it a go anyway, desperate as you are, but Namjoon holds back before you get any further.

“Maybe this doesn’t actually work outside of… you know…” Namjoon says with a wave of his hand.

“Wait, it does,” says Jungkook. “Let’s try it like this…”

He arranges the three of you, with you on your side and Namjoon spooning you from behind. Jungkook settles in behind Namjoon and tells you to move your leg up just a little bit and—

Your breath hitches as Namjoon’s cock slips through your folds and brushes up against your clit. You can’t see what Jungkook is doing, but him and Namjoon let out a groan at the same time.

“Yeah,” says Namjoon breathlessly, “yeah, I think this is it.”

“Fuck.”

“Ready?”

Namjoon guides his cock into your entrance and you moan as you feel him enter you for the first time, thick and long. He pushes in slowly, so you can feel every inch of him moving through you. You take a deep breath as he bottoms out, getting used to the stretch. His bottom arm wraps around you, hand splayed out on your collarbone, anchoring you to this moment, as if you are his tether to Earth. In this position, you can feel every movement behind you, as Jungkook enters Namjoon. Namjoon’s cock twitches inside you in response, and he groans in your ear.

Jungkook sets the pace, thrusting slowly. The movement is stilted at first, but then they find a rhythm, and you meet them, hips swiveling onto Namjoon every time he thrusts forward.

A chorus of moans and obscenities fill the room as each person chases their own high. The rhythm falters but Namjoon takes over, easier now, as he fucks into you then himself back onto Jungkook.

You crane your head to look back at Jungkook. His eyebrows meet in concentration, and he bites his lip as he rolls his hips to meet Namjoon's ass.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he grunts.

Namjoon picks up the pace as he pounds into you, hips snapping against you, and all you can do is take it, hands braced against the mattress. He brings his hand between your legs, circling your clit in insistent circles. Your legs start to shake.

"Come on, baby," he breathes in your ear, and you cry out. You're coming undone again, tight around him, and all you hear is his groan as you pulse around him.

He fucks you though your orgasm, grunting as he tries to hold back, but he follows soon after, spilling into the condom with a cry. Jungkook’s right behind him, breathing expletives as he comes.

The moment pauses, suspended as the three of you try to catch your breath. No one speaks for a long while, and you realize this could be it. You can't see their faces and right now, really, this could be the end of it. You shake your head to clear the thought before tears can threaten to prick at your eyes.

“We should do that again sometime.” It's a weak joke to ease the tension, but you don't want this moment to flit away.

Your whole body shakes as Namjoon and Jungkook laugh behind you. Namjoon squeezes you closer, tight enough to push your breath from your lungs for a brief second, and then he loosens his hold. His cock slips out from you as you twist in his arms and the human knot you’ve become comes undone. Namjoon lays on his back, Jungkook sprawled next to him. You drape yourself across Namjoon to reach out to Jungkook, and he squeezes your hand when you finally reach him.

Your heartbeat synchronizes to Namjoon's as you lay on his chest. The pounding beat slows as the second pass, and his hand comes to rest on your waist.

Once you're fully back to reality, you become more and more aware of the state of your bed. The room smells like sex and you're sticky with sweat and slick. You push up to get out of bed and Namjoon follows. He swings his legs over the edge to sitting and catches you by the waist before you can go any further. You turn to look at him.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. Bathroom.”

His eyes flick down to your body, and you feel suddenly self-conscious. Your hands come up to cover your chest, but he catches them before they make it.

"Don't."

He holds your hands between you, and looks at you with a warm smile. You lean down to kiss him. It's a bit thrilling, even after, for this to be normal. That he'll kiss you back now with no hesitation. You're not used to the casual contact, and it's going to take a long time to get accustomed to it.

You kiss him again. Practice makes perfect.

A sigh from behind Namjoon distracts you, and you both turn toward the sound. Jungkook looks at the pair of you with a soft wistfulness in his eyes, a goofy smile spreading over his features. You've seen this before. If he stays on his back much longer, he'll fall asleep.

“Come on, let's clean up." You reach over to tug him up. "Shower's massive in this bathroom."

A/N 2: eeeek we're almost at the end!! i'd love to hear what you think!!

Please do not copy or repost. I do not crosspost anywhere else.

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callmenoona25

6 months ago

I resonate with this a LOT!

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callmenoona25

1 year ago

Wow! This is so good I feel I need to smoke a cigarette after reading this 😅

night thoughts . Accidentally calling Namjoon daddy and he just loses his mind

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. night short #22

for tonight’s horny thought we have namjoon and his secret daddy kink

it would have been a joke, namjoon so invested in his work you’d only been teasing. daddy slipping off your tongue before you knew what you were saying

he’d ask you to repeat what you just said, glasses pulled from his face, left and forgotten on his desk as he made his way over to you

rough hands slipping past the waistband of your shorts as he tugs you over his lap. long fingers running through your folds— dipping into your cunt

“say it again” he’d pull your shorts down, moan catching in the back of your throat, sound of his hand connecting with your ass meeting your ears before you feel it, warm sting sending pleasure straight to your pussy

it wouldn’t take him long to have tears clinging to your waterline, cock splitting you open, angled ever so deliciously as he hits your sweet spot. thumb running over your clit as he sends you hurdling towards your orgasm

“beg daddy, come on” he’d kiss down the length of your jaw, “ask daddy to cum and i might let you”

and it would take all of his will power to not shoot his seed inside your wet pussy when you cry out his name, begging ever so prettily for daddy to help you cum, for daddy to help you reach that mind numbing pleasure you wanted so badly

his teeth nipping at the tender skin of your chest, feral sort of love consuming him as he ruts his cock into you, fingers digging into your thighs as he pushes them up to your chest. rough as he pushes you over the edge, telling you how well he’ll fill you up and then fuck his cum back into you. and if you begged pretty enough he might treat you to a second orgasm

night thoughts masterlist

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callmenoona25

7 months ago

I love this man with every fiber of my being! And I miss him so very much!

A namjoon a day while he's away

227 days to go

Do you know that i love this dork?????

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callmenoona25

1 year ago

EXPLICIT-TAE MASTERLIST

Hi, I'm Quae 💜✌🏾 Welcome to my blog. This is my solo tumblr and my joint tumblr with my bestie is trivia-yandere where we’d be posting fics, as well.

Warning: Majoirty - if not all - of my writings will be considered nsfw and suitable for those 18+ to read. They will consist of graphic smut scenes, yandere moments, etc.

I'm new to this so please don't expect anything amazing lol :)

Please do not translate, repost or use any of my writing without permission.

W.I.P Snippets (1) A Fall From Grace (Masterlist) Mommy Issues (Installments) Alternate Universe (Masterlist)

Study Partner: An alternate world in which the elites rule the world and have everything at their fingertips. At a top elite college, “Study Partners” - the most desirable sexual partners around the world - are assigned to the top 10% of students with the highest grades. W.I.P

Plaything: (Idol!Bts) Your first year in South Korea was amazing. You got to live out your dream of being an English teacher at a private Academy. You’ve attended concerts from your favorite musicians and even acquainted yourself with new friends. But, no good life last forever and now you find yourself jobless, homeless and living out of cheap motels. You’ve reached your last resort- becoming an Idol playmate. W.I.P

The Feeling of Being Stared At: You and your friends are targets of a masked killer who terrorizes each of you before they make their move on massacring. Your instincts tell you that the call is coming from inside the home, and maybe the killer is closer than you think. W.I.P

Public Enemy (Part 6/7): (Mafia! Doctor! Seokjin) You’re a young doctor - an intern fresh out of medical school - and begin your career at the best Hospital in South Korea. You would’ve been swimming in student loan debt if it wasn’t for your boyfriend of 1 year, Shin, paying it off in full. You were shocked at the action and questioned where such money came from. You got you answer when your boyfriend himself comes rushing through the hospital doors with a bullet through him. completed

Gluttony; over-indulgence and over-consumption of food, drink, or wealth items, particularly as status symbols. Upper level demon Seokjin - known as the deadly sin of Gluttony - follows alongside Namjoon as they both influence a prideful and gluttonous ruler. (Part 4 to A Fall From Grace) completed

Agent of Chaos: You’re unsure how long you’ve been an Angel for - centuries probably. You grew tired of the holier than thou attitude of your fellow Angels and decide you were ready to sin. What better place than to go than Hell to do so? W.I.P

Public Enemy (Part 7 of 7): (Mafia! Yoongi) Your elder sister was not one to disappear. After quitting her job she fought and worked hard for years in, you knew something was wrong - even when everyone insisted there wasn’t foul play involved. So, you go on your own investigation to find the truth of what just happened to your elder sister. completed

Deceived: Your life was perfect - you had an amazing husband, a beautiful daughter and neither of you wanted for anything. Your world flips upside down once your husband comes to you fuming claiming the daughter he has come to love isn't his - paternity test in hand. W.I.P

Ecstasy: You were pregnant by 19, married by 20 and divorced by 25. You weren't focused on dating, especially when you had a 7 year old. However, you weren't against it. Just when you were about to dip your toes in dating, your ex-husband returns and he's less than happy to hear about you 'attempting' to date. W.I.P

Contagious: An alternate world in which at the age of 25, your true soulmate is revealed. Some choose to defy the soulmate tie - but you refuse; especially when it’s revealed to be your sisters boyfriend. completed

Public Enemy (Part 5/7): (Mafia! Hoseok) You wonder where Hoseok goes off to when his work phone calls at all times of the day and night. It’s a bother - especially when the two of you are on a date. You suspect he’s cheating on you and decide one night to follow him and witness just where he scurries of to. completed

Bound: Jimin has tried everything in his power for you - one of his closest friends - to get laid. He realizes that your kinks don't match with just any man besides one; another friend of his - Jung Hoseok. You've met Hoseok many times and don't think your masochism can be satiated by someone as bright and sunny as him. completed

Wrath: Wrath; extreme anger. Upper-level demon Hoseok - known as the deadly sin of Wrath - wrecks chaos on Earth when a woman scorn goes on a frenzy of revenge against those who wronged her family. (Part 3 to A Fall From Grace) completed

Agent of Chaos (Part 1): You’re unsure how long you’ve been an Angel for - centuries probably. You grew tired of the holier than thou attitude of your fellow Angels and decide you were ready to sin. What better place than to go than Hell to do so? completed

Love You (Just A Little Too Much): Your group of friends preform a yearly dare that has been a tradition in the friend group since your childhood. Your senior year, you're given a dare to seduce and break the heart of a classmate who has a crush on you - Jung Hoseok. Years later, you're sure that he's come back for his revenge for breaking his heart when your friends suddenly turn up murdered. W.I.P

Public Enemy (Part 3/7): (Mafia! Detective! Namjoon) Your life was going great. You’ve been promoted from police officer to detective - something you’ve worked hard for. Your first case was to solve a murder of a local drug dealer brought to the hospital who you suspect foul play from. completed

Forbidden Fruit - Kim Namjoon is a new professor at a local University that has all the girls swooning over him. He becomes entangled with one student - you being far too persistent for his own good. Professors are strictly forbidden to have any form of relationship with their students - but the forbidden fruit always tastes the best. completed

Cruel Intentions: Organized Crime - Namjoon finds you captivating - but for the sake of his pride, ego and heart, he sure as hell hopes you are who you say you are. However, you aren't a foreigner coming from the States to Korea as a stripper - you're an Undercover detective coming to take down multiple Mafia families in Korea; Bangtan being your top priority. (Set around 9 years before Cruel Intentions) completed

Pride: Pride; a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements. Upper level demon Namjoon - known as the deadly sin of Pride - returns to Earth 50 years after his demonic counterparts to wreck havoc on a new generation of sinners. (Part 4 to A Fall From Grace) completed

One Time Thing: Namjoon was the whole package - tall, dark hair with an amazing physique. Let's not forget the personality and the intelligence that was an added bonus. Too bad he was your friend's boyfriend - even if he did appear a little too infatuated with you. completed

Public Enemy (Part 2/7): (Mafia!Jimin) After the sudden death of your boyfriend, Shin, of 2 years - by the hands of what you assume was a rival of his - you find yourself in deep shit. He assisted in paying your college tuition and other expenses you needed for school. Once the bill runs high and you’re threatened expulsion, you need money fast. Your decision to work as a camgirl wasn’t your first option, however, now it may be your only one. completed

Starring Role: Jungkook regrets introducing Jimin to your content. You’re his favorite camgirl (and the only one he watches rigorously) and he would’ve never thought he would be head-to-head with his best friend. The contest? Win a night with you. completed

Lust: Lust; an extremely strong sexual desire for someone. Upper Level demon Jimin - known as the deadly sin of Lust - is on a mission to drag a certain promiscuous woman down to hell with him. (Part 1 to A Fall from Grace) completed

Glory and Gore: The point of blind dates is to not know who you're meeting prior to the date. You were set up with Jimin by a mutual friend. Sadly, for Jimin, he didn't know you were a serial killer who killed your victims after fucking their brains out. Sadly, for you, you didn't know Jimin was a vampire and wouldn't be killed easily. completed

Seduction: You were sick of Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin & Jeon Jungkook - the local fuckboys at your University. These men knew they could have any women with a snap of their fingers - all except you. This is how you find yourself attempting to seduce all three men in order to crush their hearts like they've done to the women before you. W.I.P

Public Enemy (Part 4/7): (Mafia!Hitman! Taehyung) You’ve been with your boyfriend, Shin, for 3 years. The relationship wasn’t perfect and the two of you butted heads often which resulted in him buying whatever designer items to get back in your good graces. For the last few months, you begin to notice a slip in his character and question just what he does when he isn’t with you. completed

Insatiable: ( Part 1) (Part 2) You noticed your Junior Year of High School that Kim Taehyung, Senior, didn’t like you. It didn’t get too far, however, just verbal “teasing” and taunts. But, now that you were a sophomore in University he decided he had enough. Maybe he was a changed man - or maybe because he saw that tight skirt you wore with those lace panties peaking through. completed

Envy: Envy; a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck. Upper level demon Taehyung - known as the deadly sin of Envy - makes his way up to Earth in time to witness what those who are envious are willing to achieve. (Part 2 to A Fall From Grace) completed

Unusual Suspects: You were always told that the internet wasn't a safe space and to be careful who you were talking to. Namjoon, your crush of years, was someone you thought was a safe haven - until you realized he wasn't the man you adored but instead a catfish pretending to be him. Now, said catfish is determined to ruin your life and the life of your childhood best friend, Taehyung, for their own sick pleasure. completed

Two Sentence Horror Story: you ran up to the first person you saw - a man inside his car whose tires screeched upon you jumping in front of it - and screamed how you were kidnapped and blindfolded. completed

Sweet Serial Killer: The city is shaken up by the sudden murders going around - all by a man who claims he is doing so in the name of justice. People are divided - those who agree with the mysterious serial killer to do what the justice system has not; and those who disagree and want him captured and sent to prison. (Part 1 to Lethal Lovers) completed

Lethal Lovers: After finding out Jungkook is Yeonma, the vigilante serial killer that has the nation in a chokehold, he offers you a deal you refuse to turn down. (Part 2 to Sweet Serial Killer) completed

Public Enemy (Part 1/7): (Mafia!Jungkook) You don’t ask many questions when your boyfriend - a High School sweetheart of 4 years by the name of Shin - splurges his money on you and other luxuries. However, you know well enough that he works for one of the biggest mafia leaders of South Korea. completed

Cult: You've grown reclusive and naive to the world - your mother has sheltered you throughout your life. That was until you've grown of age and desire to see said world for what it was - through the eyes of 7 men - 1 in particular - who all claimed to be Gods of a new world. W.I.P

Insatiable: (Part 1) (Part 2): One thing for sure, Taehyung compelled you. You couldn't not think about him after your night in the woods. However, you also couldn't keep your mind off of your best friend, Jungkook, who gives you every reason not to. completed

Cruel Intentions: (Mafia!Yandere! Jungkook) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Finale) You adored your eldest brother - you truly did. Before his addiction got the best of him, he was amazing at caring for you and your other siblings. Now, however, it was your turn to care for him without the help of your siblings who long abandoned him, advising you to do the same. Once your brother manages to get himself imprisoned, you realize just how much trouble he got himself into. Once your family is threatened, you offer to pay off the debts your brother owes with the one thing any powerful man couldn't resist - your virginity. completed

Greed: Greed; intense and selfish desire for something. Upper level demon Jungkook - known as the deadly sin of Greed, joins Hoseok in his pursuit of a woman’s intense and selfish desire for something scorned gone greedy with power. (Part 3 to A Fall From Grace) completed

Seduction: You were sick of Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin & Kim Taehyung - the local fuckboys at your University. These men knew they could have any women with a snap of their fingers - all except you. This is how you find yourself attempting to seduce all three men in order to crush their hearts like they've done to the women before you. W.I.P

Slave 19990319: In the intergalatic slave trade, the human race are hastily becoming the slave - or pet - of choice. When you were a child, you were given to a young Jungkook - a prince from another planet - as a pet and grown alongside one another. completed

Concubine 19990319: The King doesn't approve of Jungkook's relationship with you - a human pet - and agrees to arrange a marriage with the Princess of a neighboring planet, Planet Amare. Soon you're considered nothing but the Princes Concubine. Desperate times call for desperate measures and you refuse to let Jungkook be taken away from you. completed

Power & Control: After word of your pregnancy spreads throughout the intergalactic universe, enemies of Planet Ivictus threaten to harm you. W.I.P (Part 3 to Slave 19990319)

One Way or Another: (Part 1) (Finale) You recant the horrible story of how you met Jeon Jungkook - a now ex-boyfriend of yours - to your therapist. You opened up about the obsessive and toxic behavior that has you constantly looking over your shoulder for the man you've been running from for years.

Visions: you’re convinced by your friends to go to a party and let go of the memories of your ex just for one night. unfortunately for you, jungkook doesn’t want to be let go. completed

Mommy Issues: Your student is a little more convincing than he should be. (Mommy Issues Part 1) completed

Homewrecker: If Jungkook couldn't be happy with you, why should your husband be? (Mommy Issues Part 2) completed

Cruel World: It's sad your brother wasted all this time getting into college just to be expelled. completed (Mommy Issues Part 3)

Sad Girl: Jungkook may be away, but he'll forever be with you. completed (Mommy Issues Part 4)

Freak: Jungkook finds a way back into your world - and you let him. completed (Mommy Issues Part 5)

Whore: When you're lonely, Jungkook is always there. completed (Mommy Issues Part 6)

Burning Desire: You allow Jungkook back into your life - fully. completed (Mommy Issues Part 7)

Pity Party: When all things fail, and everyone leaves you - you're left with no one but Jungkook. completed (Mommy Issues Part 8)

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callmenoona25

1 year ago

More Than Anything Else (two) [M]

This took almost two months. I’m sorry! This is unedited, so please excuse any errors.

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: CEO!au, smut, fluff, angst

Words: 12.8k

Warnings: Unprotected sex

two

To say that you felt completely out of place would be an understatement. The mansion was lavish, positively gleaming with the glitz and glamour from the decoration as well as the guests. You pulled at your pencil skirt, feeling overwhelmingly under-dressed looking at the elaborate gowns, jewelry and makeup of the rich specimens around you. You felt a little like a voyeur, head turning, almost involuntarily, in the direction of every immaculately dressed individual who passed by in front of you.

For a brief minute, you were so enamored by this party that you forgot your initial intention for being in such a place. You could handle the few side glances and snickers from some snobby rich people. That was hardly a problem. But, the only reason you were prepared to unnecessarily endure it all was so that you could get Namjoon to listen to you, to talk to you and try to resolve this stupid misunderstanding.

Keep reading

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callmenoona25

4 months ago

Enjoyable one shot!

pairing: namjoon x reader / word count: 9.3k / genre: pwp/smut

summary: You’ve been letting your laundry pile up for a little too long. Fortunately, your neighbour Namjoon is there to lend you a hand.

warnings: sexually explicit content, masturbation, edging (kinda), unintentional voyeurism (briefly), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), bigdick!joon, dirty talk, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, overstimulation (reader gets fucked dumb), praise, aftercare (please heed the warnings, and let me know if I need to clarify/add any!)

–

For most people, Sunday is a day of rest. But not for you.

Sunday means chores. Sunday means tidying up, dusting, vacuuming. Sunday means finally doing all the Adult Things you’ve been too busy/lazy to do for the rest of the week (or even longer than that, as evidenced by your overflowing laundry basket). Sunday means work.

Keep reading

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