The Thirty-Second Version
pairing: Kim Namjoon (RM) × Female Reader (Non-Idol Reader)
genre: Established Relationship • Romance Domesticity • Vacation Fic • Light Humor • Eventual Smut
in which y/n convinces an exhausted namjoon to take his first edible while they’re on vacation in northern california. what starts as curiosity turns into late-night conversations, and raw sex.
cw: Reader is american (sorry) illegal-ish cannabis use, explicit sexual content, head is given, unprotected sex, breeding kink, spit, sex on drugs, if any of these topics make you uncomfortable, this fic isn’t for you.
This is the filthiest thing i’ve ever cooked up oops. it’s buried under fluff.
Rain collected against the thirty-fifth-floor windows of the hotel.
It was exactly the sort of view that would have distracted him once. He’d point it out it reminded him of a painting.
A year ago he would have wandered over with a coffee. He would have taken pictures through the glass despite knowing they never looked as good as the real thing. He would have pointed out something strange he noticed on a rooftop. He’d people watch.
Instead he sat at the small desk beneath the television with three different devices open in front of him.
His laptop displayed rehearsal notes.
His phone displayed a group chat.
His Ipad displayed tomorrow’s schedule.
The room was quiet except for the soft drum of rain against glass and the occasional vibration of a notification.
Y/N sat cross-legged at the end of the bed pretending to read. She had been on the same page for nearly fifteen minutes. In reality she was observing him.
Namjoon scrolled. Paused. Typed. Scrolled again.
The rain intensified. Nothing about his posture changed.
Eventually she lowered the book.
“It’s raining NJ” she says softly hoping hed noticed
“Mm that tends to happen” he says matter of fact but with the same softness he always spoke to her with
His eyes remained on the tablet.
She looked back toward the windows.The city had almost disappeared under clouds and fog.
“honestly feels illegal to have a view like this and ignore it” she admits.. she never had luxuries like this before meeting him.
He asked her around 6 months ago to join him of the last leg of the tour. She obliged but eventually felt guilty for engaging with such a lifestyle she so obviously did not earn.
Despite this, Her claim finally earned a glance.
Only a brief one. His gaze followed hers toward the skyline before returning to the screen.
“I’m looking at it now.” he huffs, scrolling his tablet a millionth time.
“You looked at it for maybe half a second.” she says as she readjusts herself, crossing her arms at him to make a point.
“I got the general idea.”
The smile that appeared afterward was genuine enough to soften the words.
But the discomfort remained. Because he hadn’t looked.
The problem was that he seemed incapable of being anything else.
The tour still had 4 weeks left. 4 countries. 11 shows 3 interviews and Promotion.
Enough flights to make her exhausted just looking at the schedule.
His body looked tired in small ways he didn’t seem to notice anymore.
The stiffness in his shoulders when he stood and the way he rubbed one side of his neck after soundcheck.
The increasing amount of coffee. The decreasing amount of sleep. She noticed his inability to sleep. Part of her believed he asked her to come on this half of the tour because he was sure her presence could help lessen the stress. it didn’t.
He carried exhaustion the same way people carried watches. Something he’s worn so long it stopped feeling noticeable.
Later that evening room service arrived.
A hamburger, A cobb salad and Two coffees.
Neither of them needed coffee. Both drank it anyway.
The receipt remained folded beside the tray while they ate.
Namjoon unfolded it absentmindedly.
His attention drifted immediately toward the date printed near the bottom. The date reminded him of the remaining schedule then the schedule reminded him of rehearsals. And before Y/N could finish half her fries he was checking his phone again.
She watched him for a moment. Then reached across the table and stole the phone.
“Hey?” confusion clear on his face.
“You’ve been working for twelve hours straight” she shrugs.
“I’m eating.” he rolls his eyes at her.
“While working?” she questioned .
She slid the phone beneath her thigh. His eyebrows lifted. He smirks a bit.
“You know that’s theft.” he teases
A laugh escaped him. For a few seconds he leaned back in the chair. seeming actually relaxed. The movement looked so unusual that it startled her.
Then the thought appeared without warning.
The tour ended in one month. And for the first time in years there was nothing immediately scheduled afterward.
The cabin listing she’d bookmarked weeks ago surfaced in her memory.
she imagined the Rain, the Forest and Huge windows. She imagined lighting the stone fireplace and then cuddling infront of it in Northern California. Far enough from everything that cell service became unreliable.
The thought connected itself naturally to the man sitting across from her.
“You should come to California with me.” The words emerged before she thought to say them.
“okay, Good.” he nods in response
“When the tour ends.” she says softly almost scared to speak up.
His attention shifted. She recognized the expression immediately.
Risk assessment and Logistics. The same expression he used before making any decision.
“like a Vacation or Holiday?”
“well yea, A real one. one with no cameras, or script or director” she pokes.
“You know I don’t understand the concept.” he says sarcastically.
“You desperately need one.” she says seriously. He smiled into his coffee.
“People always say that.”
“Because it’s true!” she says excitedly
The conversation might have ended there. well it should have.
Instead she remembered something another friend had mentioned weeks earlier.
what started as a joke turned into an innocent suggestion.
The sort of thing that would normally disappear into conversation and never return.
“i think we should try something” she says, a slight mischievous look in her eye.
His face immediately suggested he expected trouble.
“That sentence never ends well.”
“what if… you?.. take an edible.”
The look he gave her was so immediate that she started laughing before he even spoke.
“No.” he says flatly. Despite his amusement he was serious.
“You didn’t even think about it.” she pouts
“I thought about it.” he maintains
“For half a second-” she retorts quickly.
“Half a second was enough for me, i’m Korean, i thought you knew that” he jokes.
She laughed hard. She hated how funny he is
He shook his head with a chuckle. Already smiling despite himself.
“In all seriousness No. baby. i cannot do that” he reveals
“Because absolutely not.” he responds clearly not wanting to delve deeper into the conversation but if he knew his girlfriend enough. she would persist.
“That isn’t a reason.” she whines slightly
“It feels like a complete reason.” he looks up avoiding her gaze.
“You sound eighty years old.” she claims, her typical response when her older boyfriend didn’t agree to her shenanigans.
“OH?” she nearly yelled. Her laugh echoing loudly.
The conversation dissolved beneath amusement. Neither of them took it seriously.
But the next time it came up they were in London.
A grocery store tucked between two gray stone buildings.
They had escaped with baseball caps, oversized jackets, and exactly enough privacy to feel temporarily anonymous.
Namjoon wandered, strategically.
He spent three minutes examining tea he wasn’t planning to buy. Four minutes looking at jam.
The entire excursion felt absurdly peaceful.
Until he stepped by a display of gummy candy.
The brightly colored packages reminded her of something.
“That’s how they get you.” she shook her head jokingly.
“How who gets me?” he raised a brow.
“The edible people.” she said not fully knowing what she meant
“There are edible people?” he tested. knowing she didn’t fully know what her point was
“You know what I mean” she pokes, a habit of hers.
His expression became instantly suspicious.
He grabbed a bag of candy. “You bring this up like it’s a political issue.”
“Because you’re weirdly against it.” she huffed
“I’m not ‘weirdly’ against it.” he finger quotes her
“You kind of are. you’re so against it but you do other risky shit with me..”
He dropped the candy into the cart. He wasn’t annoyed. in fact he liked these stupid and useless arguments because it showed she could disagree with him. Which became rare for him in his connections. at least in recent years
“I’m a public figure baby, you’re being unreasonable” he explains
“it’s incredibly illegal, id lose everything if it got out. i’d lose you, my job, my freedom and possibly my citizenship” he continues
she sighed, she had genuinely forgot the weight of drug politics in Korea. Despite dating namjoon for around 2 years. she’d only been to korea twice. she forgot he didn’t have the same freedoms as her as she was american and he was korean.. she couldn’t help but feel a bit of frustration but also understood the position he’s in.
“You’ll be in a cabin in the united states” she persisted despite thinking about it.
The final show arrived quietly.
Though There was nothing quiet about seventy thousand people singing lyrics back toward a stage. There was nothing quiet about fireworks, lighting cues, camera operators sprinting between positions, or the controlled chaos that accompanied every major stadium performance.
But emotionally, it arrived more quietly than Y/N expected.
For months everyone had spoken about the final date as though it existed somewhere far away. A distant landmark. Something visible on the horizon but impossible to reach.
Then suddenly it was Tuesday Or Thursday. Or whatever day it happened to be. The exact date barely seemed to matter.
The ending had arrived anyway. Backstage felt different before the show even started. People lingered.
Conversations stretched longer. Nobody seemed particularly eager to disappear into the machinery of their jobs.
The tour had become its own small society over the past year and a half. Dancers, stylists, managers, security, production staff, camera operators, makeup artists, translators, drivers. Entire friendships had formed inside airport lounges and hotel lobbies and arena hallways.
Now everyone was preparing to return to their actual lives. The realization hung in the air.
Y/N noticed it while wandering through catering.
People laughed. People became unexpectedly emotional.
The members handled it differently. Jungkook seemed strangely nostalgic all day. He kept pulling out his phone to photograph things nobody would normally photograph. Equipment cases. Hallways. Dressing room mirrors.
Taehyung carried a camera around his neck and used it constantly.
Jimin appeared incapable of staying in one room for longer than ten minutes. He drifted between dressing rooms, rehearsals, green rooms, and backstage corridors as though he wanted to spend a little more time with everyone before the day ended.
Hoseok remained energetic because Hoseok was apparently powered by something science had yet to identify, though even he seemed softer. Even tired.
Seokjin compensated for every trace of sentimentality with increasingly cheesy dad jokes.
Yoongi looked like a man who desperately needed three uninterrupted weeks of sleep.
None of it surprised her.
What surprised her was her boyfriend. Namjoon. Because while everyone else seemed busy processing the ending, he seemed busy avoiding it.
Asked questions he already knew the answers to.
At one point she found him studying a departure itinerary that had already been finalized days earlier. The behavior would have been annoying if it wasn’t so transparent.
He was trying not to think about the absence of tomorrow. The realization stayed with her throughout the show.
Eventually the lights dimmed.
The crowd roared And the final show began.
Hours later it ended. Gradually.
People cried. The audience. Crew members and Several dancers.
One manager she was fairly certain had never cried in his life, sobbed. The members embraced each other repeatedly.
The moment felt large enough that nobody quite knew what to do with it.
And then, inevitably, the lights came up and The audience began leaving. People disappeared into hallways carrying equipment.
For the first time in nearly a year, nobody needed them tomorrow. The thought should have felt liberating.Yet when Y/N finally found Namjoon backstage, he looked oddly lost.
Like someone who had spent months walking with a heavy backpack and suddenly realized it was gone.
His shoulders hadn’t adjusted yet.
The hotel felt exhausted. By the time they returned, it was well after midnight.
Several floors had effectively become temporary BTS headquarters over the previous week. Staff moved between rooms carrying luggage and garment bags. Elevators opened and closed constantly. Voices echoed through hallways.
Now everything felt slower.
The entire hotel seemed caught between departure and sleep.
Y/N let herself into the room first.
The curtains remained open
Someone had delivered food earlier. The containers occupied most of the coffee table. Nobody remembered ordering it. They had all been too tired to think clearly.
Namjoon entered a minute later.
Everything remained organized. Tonight he looked too tired to care.
He sank onto the couch. The cushions shifted beneath his weight. For several seconds he simply sat there staring toward the windows.
Y/N settled beside him.The room remained quiet. For once there were no schedules waiting.
The absence seemed almost visible.
Eventually Namjoon laughed softly. The sound startled her.
“What?” she says says softly just below a whisper
He rubbed a hand across his face and laughs humorlessly
“I genuinely don’t know what I’m supposed to do tomorrow.”
The confession arrived so casually she almost missed it.
“What do you mean?” she asks
He looked toward the coffee table.
“I mean I don’t know.” His voice remained quiet.
He glanced toward his phone. “No rehearsal.”
A small smile appeared on his face
“Nobody needs anything.” he mumbles like he just realized it
The smile faded. like he was getting lost in thought.
As though he were still trying to decide whether that was comforting or terrifying.
Y/N leaned back into the couch. The cushions smelled faintly like hotel detergent. Rain tapped softly against the glass.
For a while neither spoke.
“so is California still available?” The question emerged so casually she almost thought she imagined it.
Her head turned immediately. “wait What?”
Namjoon’s eyes remained fixed on the windows.
“The cabin.” he responds with a straight face
“The one you’ve been talking about for six months.” he reminds her.
She thought he’d never agree. The grin that spread across her face felt unstoppable.
“You’re serious?!” she was shocked.
“I’m tired.” he admitted.
That’s the most honest thing he’d said all week.
She had spent months talking about this place. Showing him photographs. Sending links. Pointing out details. She romanticized it shamelessly.
The road curved through towering redwoods. Wet bark reflected light. Branches disappeared into darkness high above. The forest seemed impossibly old. The cabin appeared gradually..
The house looked exactly as it had in photographs and somehow larger.
The architecture felt expensive without feeling showy.
As though somebody had spent a great deal of money trying to make luxury look comfortable.
A wide deck wrapped around one side of the structure. Warm light spilled through enormous windows.
For several seconds neither moved. The engine remained running. Rain tapped against the windshield. The forest surrounded them on every side. No neighboring houses.
Namjoon stared through the glass. The cabin glowed softly against the darkness. Beyond it, redwoods vanished into fog.
He took a slow breath. Then another. The expression on his face wasn’t excitement. it was disbelief.
The kind that appears when reality unexpectedly resembles the version you imagined.
Eventually he switched off the engine.
The sudden quiet felt enormous.
After months of discussion and weeks of anticipation, they had finally arrived.
Groceries immediately became a source of entertainment. The first trip filled nearly an entire cart. Frozen pizza. Three different cereals. Pop-Tarts. cranberry juice and apple juice.
Several bags of chips. Candy. Microwave macaroni. and Ice cream.
More snacks than any two adults reasonably required. Namjoon examined everything with the fascination of someone visiting another planet.
“You people actually eat this?”
“You people?” y/n turns her head in faux outrage.
He held up a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
“You can’t convince me this is breakfast. this is pure sugar, baby” he preaches.
“It absolutely is breakfast.” she huffs
“It is dessert” he scoffs
She tossed it into the cart.
“Welcome to the U.S” she says flatly causing him to playfully roll his eyes
For the first time in months she heard him laugh without exhaustion attached to it.
The sound followed her all the way down the aisle.
The edible returned on the fifth day. Not because she mentioned it.
Because he did. Surprisingly.
The conversation arrived while they were loading groceries into the refrigerator.
Namjoon stood examining a container of strawberries while she tried to fit too much food into too little space.
“What does it actually feel like?”
The question appeared so suddenly she nearly dropped a cutwater. She turned.
“The edible.” he states flatly
His attention remained on the strawberries.
The casualness looked suspicious.
“You brought it up?” her brows furrowed
“I’m asking.” he clarified
For months she’d been the one bringing it up.
Now he looked vaguely annoyed that she seemed surprised.
“You’ve spent six weeks trying to convince me.”
“I stopped purposely Nj” she huffs
“I noticed.” The answer carried a faint smile.
For a moment neither spoke.
Outside, rain continued falling.
Finally Namjoon closed the container of strawberries.
“What does it feel like?” he repeats
Y/N considered the question.
“well… it really Depends hun.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“I’m serious, everyone reacts differently to different strands” she explains as she had been doing edibles since she turned 18.
“fuck. there are strands?” he questions
she nods slowly realizing how much he didn’t know about the Schedule 1 drug
She closed the refrigerator door.
“but yknow people get giggly.”
His expression remained skeptical.
“Some people get sleepy.” she lists
Still skeptical. His brow raised cartoonishly
“Some people just feel relaxed.”
That finally caught his attention.
Then two days later he brought it up again.
This time they were sitting beneath blankets on the couch. Rain battered the windows.
A documentary played unnoticed in the background.
Namjoon stared at the ceiling.
“Would I know if I was acting weird?”
“i mean yeah, you probably will.”
“That’s not reassuring baby” his lips flatten
“You already act weird” she offers.. He places a hand on his chest, Offended.
The discussion continued like that for three more days. Questions appearing unexpectedly.
While cooking and walking through the forest, even while brushing their teeth.
Never when she expected them.
Always when he seemed relaxed enough to become curious.
The questions grew increasingly specific.
First, how long would it last?
then, would he remember everything?
eventually it was would he embarrass himself and would he wake up feeling guilty?
Could he do some kind of detox afterward?
The detox conversation nearly killed her.
She looked up from her book.
“It is one edible, you will not need a detox” she explains for the millionth time to the man
“But theoretically..”he persists
“There is no theoretically-” she adds
“but what if I wanted to?”
She lowered the book. “We can if it makes you feel better.. Are you also planning to become a monk afterward?”
His laugh echoed through the cabin. The sound lingered. Then faded.
The kind of silence that only existed between people who had already said most things worth saying.
Rain moved through the trees.
The fireplace crackled softly.
The TV continued talking to itself.
Eventually Namjoon spoke again. “and so people really enjoy it?”
On the eighth night she was curled beneath a blanket with a mug of hot chocolate when she heard the pantry door close.
Namjoon stood in the doorway holding something behind his back.
For a second she only stared.
“You’ve gotta be kidding joon.
“I’d appreciate it if you stopped looking at me like I’m about to enlist again.”
Her laugh escaped before she could stop it.
“I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Quick before I change my mind.”
She disappeared into the bedroom and returned a moment later with the unopened package.
Namjoon accepted the package carefully, turning it over in his hands.
“…I thought it’d look more like a drug. it looks like candy.”
“It looks like candy because it is candy.”
He studied it another moment before looking at her.
Popped the whole gummy into his mouth.
Chewed. Swallowed. Several seconds passed.
“…That’s it?” he frowned.
“I don’t know.” He looked mildly offended.
“I expected something ceremonious.”
“All you did was eat a gummy, babe.”
“hmm.” He sat beside her on the couch.
Blankets covered their legs.
Five minutes passed. Then twenty. Then an hour.
“I think you bought me cheap candy.”
“I told you it’d take a while.” she reminds him softly
“…How long is ‘a while’?” he pouts a bit.
“You say that to everything.” he huffs.
Namjoon was halfway through explaining a movie trailer he’d seen a few months ago.
“…and that’s why I don’t think he’s actually the villain.”
Y/N looked up from her mug.
“The father.” He gestured with one hand. “Everyone in the comments kept saying he was obviously the villain, but if you actually pay attention to the trailer…” He frowned, trying to piece it together. “No. wait I think it’s the sister.”
She stared at him for a beat.
“…Did you actually watch this movie yet?” she hums
“Ah so you’ve been analyzing a two-minute trailer for the last ten minutes…” she nods.
He looked genuinely surprised.
She nodded, trying not to laugh.
“You normally give me the thirty-second version.”
“huh…” he hums thoughtfully
Silence settled for a moment.
Then, almost experimentally:
“…I think I’m actually…” He searched for the word. “…a little inebriated.”
“No, I mean…” He looked down at his own hands, turning one over as if he’d never really examined it before. “It’s strange.”
“It’s like…” He paused again. “Usually I’m inside my own head.”
“I know.” A small smile appeared. “But normally everything feels… attached. Every thought immediately becomes another thought. Every feeling becomes something I should evaluate.”
“Now it feels like I’m watching myself think.”
He laughed quietly at how odd it sounded.
“I’m still me. I’m just… observing me.”
The firelight caught the faint gloss in his eyes and the relaxed line of his shoulders.
He looked softer around the edges, like someone had turned down the volume on the constant hum that usually lived inside him.
For once, Namjoon wasn’t reaching for his phone, wasn’t checking the time, wasn’t thinking three steps ahead.
Y/N stayed quiet, letting the silence stretch. Something about the moment felt important. Delicate.
Like the edible had peeled back a layer he usually kept locked tight.
He kept turning his hand over in his lap, studying his own fingers with mild fascination before his gaze drifted back to her.
The look he gave her was heavy, unguarded. It lingered on her face, then down to where her hand rested on his thigh, then back up again.
The air between them thickened slowly, warm and charged with everything unsaid.
Minutes passed like that.
Just the rain, the low crackle of the fireplace, and the weight of his stare.
Eventually his voice came, quieter than before.
“I like this,” he murmured.
“Being here with you. No schedule. No one needing anything.” He paused, swallowing.
“I don’t want it to end when we leave California.”
Y/N’s heart picked up. She waited, sensing he wasn’t finished.
Namjoon shifted slightly on the couch, turning more toward her.
His hand slid over hers, thumb brushing across her knuckles in slow, absent strokes.
He seemed to be choosing his words carefully even through the haze.
Move in with me,” he said finally.
His voice was low, almost rough around the edges. “my place”
The request landed softly but heavily between them. No long explanation.
No practiced speech. Just the quiet offer of something permanent.
Y/N’s breath caught. For a second she couldn’t speak.
Her mind spun images of his Seoul home, waking up beside him every morning, learning how to build a real life in a city that still sometimes felt foreign.
The anxiety was there too: leaving behind her familiar routines, the distance from friends and family, stepping deeper into his world with all its pressures and eyes always watching.
But when she looked at him flushed red but relaxed, and looking at her like this was the most natural thing in the world the answer rose up easily.
Namjoon’s eyes sharpened with focus even through the haze.
“Yeah?” he asked, almost like he needed to hear it again.
She nodded, a breathless little laugh escaping her. “Yes. I’ll move in with you.”
Her fingers tightened around his.
“I’ve thought about it before… a lot, actually. I want that. I want to come home to you too.”
The relief that washed over his face was quiet but unmistakable.
He let out a slow breath and leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers.
For a long moment they just stayed like that, breathing the same air, the weight of the decision settling warmly between them.
His hand slid up to cup the side of her neck, thumb stroking gently under her jaw.
Neither of them rushed to fill the silence.
“… so does it feel good?” she grinned mischievously.
He didn’t answer immediately. Not even noting her mischievous tone.
His eyes wandered to the rain on the windows before returning to her.
“…I was going to say I don’t know.”
“…But I think the answer is yes.”
“y’know what feels better?” she asked, voice low and playful.
“Hm?” He turned his head toward her, slow and heavy lidded.
His eyes slightly pink around the waterline.
“Better than this?” he gasps. She chuckles.
She leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Sex.”
The reaction was immediate and perfect.
Namjoon’s eyebrows shot up, eyes widening in genuine surprise.
His mouth parted slightly then closed, then parted again like his brain had briefly short-circuited.
The flush already creeping across his cheeks from the edible deepened. His eyes glazing a bit
“I… didn’t think of that,” he admitted, sounding almost scandalized by his own oversight.
She burst out laughing, the sound bright and fond.
“You didn’t think of that? Baby, I seriously doubt you’ve never thought of that.” She knew how perverted her boyfriend could be.
He rubbed a hand over his face, but the grin breaking through ruined any attempt at composure.
“I mean logically, yes. Of course I have. But right now? It didn’t… occur.”
The suggestion of sex lingered in the air like smoke, heavy and warm, but neither of them reached for it right away.
Namjoon’s gaze drifted back to the rain sliding down the dark windows.
The edible kept pulling at his thoughts. His hand rested heavy on her thigh, thumb moving in slow, absent circles.
The cabin felt smaller, the firelight closer.
Minutes passed in that thick silence.
Tension built between them, unspoken but undeniable.
Eventually he exhaled, long and slow. His eyes returned to hers, darker now, more intense despite the haze.
He pulled her closer without a word, kissing her slow and deep, but it didn’t escalate right away.
They stayed like that for a while, mouths lazy, hands wandering.
Eventually she slid down, settling on her knees between his spread thighs.
The bulge in his sweatpants was obvious, insistent.
She took her time tugging the fabric down, freeing him.
He was rock hard, flushed dark, a bead of pre
cum already glistening at the tip.
Namjoon’s breath hitched as she wrapped her hand around the base.
She stroked once, slow and slick, then leaned in and dragged her tongue up the underside in one long, wet line.
“Fuck…” The word fell out of him, rough.
His head tipped back against the couch, but after a moment he forced it forward again, eyes heavy-lidded, watching her.
Just wet, warm, deliberate suction.
When she pulled back, strings of saliva connected her lips to his cock.
She repeated it, slower the second time, taking him deeper until he nudged the back of her throat.
Another broken sound escaped him
His hand found her hair, not pushing, just gripping, fingers flexing like he couldn’t decide whether to hold on tighter or let go completely.
She could feel him trembling under the effort of staying somewhat still.
The edible had torn away his usual tight control; every sensation seemed amplified.
His thighs tensed, muscles jumping under her palms.
She made it messy on purpose loud, wet sounds filling the quiet cabin as she bobbed, swirled her tongue, hollowed her cheeks.
Drool slipped down her chin. She pulled off to stroke him fast and slick for a few seconds, thumb rubbing over the sensitive head, before swallowing him again.
Namjoon groaned, deeper this time, helpless.
His hips twitched upward involuntarily. “fuck… look at you.”
He couldn’t stop watching. The lights stayed on, warm and unforgiving, letting him see everything:
the way her lips looked stretched around him, the shine of spit on her chin, the way her eyes watered but stayed locked on his face.
He loved this view more than almost anything seeing how much she genuinely enjoyed it, how she got off on reducing him to these raw, broken noises.
She hummed around him, taking him even deeper, holding there until her throat fluttered.
He let out a low, wrecked moan, the kind she rarely pulled from him, and his grip in her hair tightened.
“Slow… yeah. just like that,” he managed, voice strained.
The wet heat of her mouth was pushing him dangerously close.
Namjoon’s head was tipped back, chest heaving, fingers tangled tight in her hair as another low, broken groan slipped out of him.
“Feels so fucking good…” he rasped.
The second the words left his mouth, Y/N pulled off strings of spit still connecting her swollen lips to his throbbing cock.
He blinked down at her, dazed and frustrated, but she was already moving.
She climbed back onto his lap, knees sinking into the couch on either side of his thighs.
No preamble. She shoved her own shorts and underwear down just enough, took his slick cock in her hand, and sank down onto him in one slow, greedy motion.
Namjoon’s eyes widened. A guttural sound tore from his throat.
This was new. They had never fucked outside the bedroom before.
Never like this, him sitting upright on the couch like he was simply relaxing, her straddling him face-to-face, fully in control.
She had fantasized about it for months.
She took him to the hilt, then rolled her hips in a deep, grinding circle.
The angle was devastating.
On every downward stroke, the head of his cock pressed right against her cervix, a blunt, intense pressure that made her whimper and him choke on air.
He had never felt anything like it.
His hands flew to her hips, gripping hard enough to bruise as she started riding him properly slow, heavy bounces that let him feel every inch of her tight, wet heat.
His mouth hung open, eyes glassy and locked on where their bodies joined.
“Shit… baby,” he groaned, the words punched out of him.
“So deep like this… I can feel fuck- I can feel all of you.”
Y/N braced her hands on his shoulders and kept the torturously slow rhythm, deliberately teasing him with each roll of her hips.
Every wet sound of her sliding up and down on his cock filled the cabin.
Namjoon’s head fell forward against her chest.
He was losing it in ways she had never seen. The edible had stripped away every filter.
His moans were louder, filthier, almost helpless.
“You’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he muttered against her skin.
Then, voice dropping lower, rougher: “Keep riding me like that and I’m gonna fill you up… put a baby in you right here on this couch.”
Her walls clenched hard around him at the words.
He felt it and smirked, even as his own control frayed.
“Yeah? You like that?” He thrust up to meet her next bounce, hitting that spot even harder.
“Want me to pump you full until it’s dripping out?”
She moaned loudly, pace faltering for a second.
He took advantage immediately.
With a low growl, Namjoon suddenly flipped them.
He pushed her onto her back on the wide couch and folded her legs up, pressing her knees nearly to her shoulders in a tight mating press.
The new angle was merciless.
