#moonchildnet

You're a good person. You pride yourself on being kind and giving. Every year you make donations to several charities. You help organize summer fundraisers so kids can eat. You buy the most ethically-sourced groceries possible. You leave your change in case someone else can use it. You always tip at least 20% when you go out to eat. Out of everything, though, of all the good deeds you try to do in your life, there's one thing that makes you a truly outstanding human being. 

You don't lose your fucking mind every time the urge hits you. 

"But how many calories are in the Holiday Donut?" The lady in front of you asks. You can feel your eye twitching and even the young guy behind the register is starting to falter in his bright grin. 

"Um, I'm not-"

"Look lady," You cut in. "You have heard about nearly every thing on the fucking menu. It's a donut, stuffed with strawberry creme and coated in colored frosting and sprinkles. How many calories do you think are in it? Just order the banana nut muffin like you always do, get your coffee, and leave, so the rest of us aren't stuck in a line for another hour." 

The lady looks scandalized as she turns to glare at you, but all it takes is a single cocked eyebrow to send her huffing out the door. She mutters a few choice words under her breath as she goes, but you pay them no mind. 

"Your usual is almost ready, Pumpkin." You level Jin with an unamused glare as he pushes his way through the kitchen doors with a steaming tray of scones in hand. 

"You know I hate that name, Spice," You remind him dryly. 

"You know I hate it when you run my customers off with that dark cloud you call a personality, and yet here we both are," he responds. He just smiles at your eyeroll and you do your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Instead you make yourself comfortable on one of the barstools at the counter. 

Seokjin's bakery is as busy as it ever is; several of the tables are taken, either by students on their nth espresso or families doing holiday shopping or people just looking for a place to relax amidst the bustle of the streets. There's someone perched on the stool at the opposite end, close to the register, but you pay them no mind. You're too focused on the mug Jin slides in front of you - green and chipped on the handle, it's your favorite - and the steam wafting up from the cocoa inside. There's a thick layer of marshmallow on the top and a candy cane sticking out, just like you like it, and a Holiday Bagel on a small plate next to it. 

"Thanks. You're still an ass, though." He has the decency to look offended at your words, and you grit your teeth against the smile that threatens to split your face. He always looks so cute when he's huffy. 

"One of these days I'm going to make you start paying for your food like everyone else, and then you'll start treating me right."

"Sure," You agree in a monotone as you pull your phone out and start tapping away on it. "That'll be the same day that you stop asking me to do your books for you because you can't be bothered."

The sigh that expels itself from his lungs is almost as dramatic as the play he dragged you to the week before. 

"I am perfectly capable of doing my books myself, thank you. I let you do it to keep you busy."

"Mhm, sure, I believe that," You tell him. He scoffs again and you barely register the hand he shoots forward to steal your bagel before you're slapping it away. "You don't even like strawberries and kiwi, Seokjin, and you will lose a hand."

You don't look up from the emails you're sorting through on your phone, but you don't have to in order to know that he's got both elbows braced on either side of you. You've known him long enough to know that this is his Pout Stance, and you dare not look up because there's no denying him when he looks like that. 

"You're so mean to me, Pumpkin. All I do is spoil you with good food and perfect company," he whines, "And what do I get for it? Insults and mockery. You could at least give me a kiss every now and then."

You choke on your cocoa. It burns your nose as it starts to come up that way, and the dark liquid dances across your phone screen as it molds to every crack and crevice. 

"Goddamn it, Seokjin," You sputter. He's already holding a cloth out to you, apology written on his face even as you glare at him. You pat your phone dry as best you can before resigning yourself to the fact that it's just going to smell like warm chocolate and peppermint until the next time your best friend flusters you. 

"To be fair, I didn't expect you to be so opposed to the idea," Seokjin mutters. He continues under his breath as you wave off his attempt to help again, something about him being handsome enough, but you aren't listening. Because that's the only real problem between the two of you. 

You aren't opposed to the idea. It's all you can think about most days; in work meetings, while you're doing paperwork, in team briefings, while you watch TV, when you're asleep. What his pillow lips would feel like against your own occupies nearly every waking thought you have. The others are torn between fantasies of what being his would be like and memories of him in general, neither of which you're lacking in.

You've known Seokjin for years. You don't even know how long since you insist you met when you were twelve and Jin is just as insistent that you met when you were nine. All you remember is being alone on the side of a playground playing hopscotch by yourself and then giggling at something the nice boy had said and then the two of you were inseparable. You aren't even sure how long you've felt like this towards him. It could've been high school, when he was one of the most sought after boys in school and yet still made time to comfort you every time a boy rejected you. Maybe it was college, though, when he was further away than he'd ever been and yet always answered your calls and responded to your texts and you'd cancel dates because he had randomly driven up to see you. Maybe it was after, watching him run his own bakery and do what he loves every day with the brightest grin you've ever seen on his face. 

You can't be sure. All you know is one day you were washing dishes in the back after being his guinea pig for some new creation, and he told some dumb joke, and when you turned around to mock his squeaky laugh like usual, you couldn't. Because he had flour on his cheek and chocolate on his lip and you'd never wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life. 

And then it just devolved from there and now the butterflies in your stomach have just set up camp. It's been too long, but you can't risk your friendship with him over some stupid crush. He means too much to you. 

Your eyes don't leave his back as he disappears back into the kitchen, still complaining about something under his breath, and you suppress a sigh. 

Shopping is the worst. You aren't really sure why you're here, because you hate shopping and you hate crowds and you especially hate holiday shopping because it's like Satan himself smashed the two together. You get all your gifts online or early in the year, you don't go anywhere near a mall from October to March, and it works for you. You don't have to deal with holiday crowds. Ever. So why are you on hour five at the largest mall in driving distance with no breakfast, sore feet, and full bags hanging from every possible place they can?

"Does that really seem like something Taehyung would like, though? I got that jacket for him already, I know, but this seems so much more fitting. What do you think, Pumpkin?"

Oh. Right. Seokjin had showed up at Too Damn Early For A Saturday O'Clock and demanded you accompany him for his holiday shopping. 

"I think that if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes, I'm ripping your head off and eating that instead. And for dessert I'll demolish those fancy chocolates you got for Jimin." A passing mother gives you a horrified glance as she ushers her toddler along and you almost wish you gave a shit. It's the mall, she can't control what other people say in this hellhole. You probably could’ve done without the emphasis on Jimin, though; Jin knows how much you worship those chocolates, you’ve said countless times that they’re better than orgasms, and still, he got some for Jimin and not you. 

You aren’t bitter. Or petty. No. You’re an adult, and you’re not going to pout just because your crush got your mutual friends some sweets instead of you.

"If you touch those chocolates, you're going to march your ass right back to that store and replace them while I return all your gifts," Seokjin quips back. You glance over at him and wrinkle your nose at the two berets he has in each hand. 

"What the fuck are you doing, Spice?"

“Wondering when you’re going to listen when I talk to you,” He responds. He holds both of the berets up for you to view more clearly. “Now, which of these is more ‘Tae’ to you?” He doesn’t react to the blank glare you give him, long since immune to your powers of pessimism, and instead just wiggles the berets in each hand so you actually look at them. 

Neither are to your personal taste; one is diamond-encrusted in some kind of quilted pattern, with some kind of alternating animal print as well. The other is more understated, if you can call it that, with a faux-fur trim, a feathered poof in the center, and a truly obscene pink houndstooth pattern to it. You can’t help the wrinkled nose that the two options cause in you, and you ignore Seokjin’s huff of irritation in favor of looking past him to the rest of the options. You only have to look for a minute to find something better suited, which mostly means Jin wanted to give Tae something truly gaudy on purpose. 

“Here,” You say, stuffing the hat into his hands. He stops mid-rant - something about how you should be helping him more, though you aren’t sure why because he’s the one that dragged you here and is lucky you haven’t bailed yet - and focuses on what you’ve just given him. It’s not a pretty beret, by any means, and is by far the cheapest one there, but it’s got some kind of artful splatter across it in greyscale tones, with a pop of red around the rim to accent it. Seokjin just stares at it for a second before turning his gaze on you, and you shift uncomfortably. 

“What?” You eventually ask. 

“Nothing,” He says airily. “Just surprised.” 

“At what?”

“You paying attention to people and being able to buy good gifts.” He puts the other two back into place and heads towards the registers, ignoring your indignant squawk. 

“I get you perfect gifts every year!” You don’t miss his eyeroll, and it makes you want to strangle him a little. 

“I don’t count,” He tells you as he settles in behind some grandmother buying entirely too many things that have to be for her grandkid. “You know me better than anyone, and you have access to my Amazon wishlist.”

“Yeah, except none of that is on your fucking wishlist,” You mutter. He turns, eyebrow arched and ready to get more backtalk, but you just make a face at him. 

He drags you to five more stores after that and abandons you in the middle of Williams Sonoma. You’re on your third lap of the store, ready to disassemble the fancy grill they’ve got on display to see if he’s somehow in there, when he appears, probably from the ether or some shit. You’re still trying to figure out how he managed to phase through time and space and the massive shelf of Martha Stewart Collection Cookware without you noticing, and in the meantime he takes the massive amount of bags from your hands and deposits something in your palms instead. 

It takes you a minute to register the warmth, but the smell hits instantly and makes your stomach grumble loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking hungry. 

“Eat,” Seokjin commands. “We’ve got more shopping to do for the bakery.”

You can’t even argue because your mouth is stuffed full of pizza pretzel bites - the only real reason to come to the mall, in your opinion. You’ve inhaled one serving in record time, and Jin doesn’t even react when you bust into the second one in the middle of some tech store. Instead, he just holds out a hand and waits for you to plop a pretzel bite in his palm. 

It’s hours later, long after you’ve helped Seokjin drop off all the bakery supplies at the shop and carted the presents up to his apartment, that you realize you’re still holding on to the bag from the pretzel place. You’re about to toss it into your garbage when it registers that there’s too much weight for just garbage; curious, you open the bag up and dump the content onto your kitchen counter. 

Inside is a small box of chocolates, the same kind you’d threatened to eat earlier in the day, your favorite flavor and everything, with a small note atop it. 

These were supposed to be part of your gift, but you looked put out when you thought I wasn’t getting you any. Thanks for today. xxSpice

You resist the urge to smile; it’s only right that he give you sweets after the frankly absurd amount of time he’d made you spend at the mall. Still, you can’t deny your lip twitches along with your heart at the knowledge that he’d been planning on including them in your gift. 

And you might tuck the note away behind a postcard on your fridge, but you’re never going to admit to that. 

The next day when you get to the bakery, Seokjin doesn't hesitate to shove you into his small office and push you into his desk chair before he disappears back into the kitchen. The usually cluttered space is empty, devoid of the usual invoices and order forms and whatever the fuck else your best friend keeps on his desk. Even the picture frames have been moved, placed haphazardly atop a filing cabinet. Something flutters in your chest when you notice the one directly facing his chair is one of the two of you.

Taken years and years ago, back when you were first moving into your college dorm, when you were both tired from carrying boxes up the seven flights of stairs to your room. You still remember how irritated you had been when Jin's parents insisted they get a picture of the two of you in your matching university hoodies. You don't remember what it was, but you remember Seokjin cracked some dumb joke or said something ridiculous. He must have, because in the picture, you're looking at him with a softness in your face that isn't present any other time.

Seokjin reappears with a steaming mug and a hand behind his back. The familiar scent of warm chocolate and peppermint hits you, followed closely by the warm-butter sharp-mint honey-glaze smell that you remember taste-testing for him so many times that you're almost positive it’s going to linger on your gravestone.

"That's mistledough." You narrow your eyes, and he rolls his own. His hand pulls out from behind his back to reveal the treat he'd concocted in college and perfected not long after. Shaped like a sprig of mistletoe and a warm honey brown color, the mistledough is easily the best selling product that Seokjin has.

And it's only on sale from Black Friday to the first day of January.

You don't even know what's in it. He's never told you, hasn't let you watch him make it; he'd just show up randomly and shove a weird-shaped treat under your nose and tell you to eat it. And of course you did, because you've been whipped for him since the first day he made you smile on that playground.

It's not important, really. What's important is that he's brought you cocoa and mistledough, which means he's bribing you for something important.

"No," You tell him.

"Please," He pouts. "You don't even know what it is yet." You huff and look anywhere else. His pout is dangerous for you and you know it, and you refuse to be bought for some cocoa and bread.

In an attempt to avoid the puppy dog eyes he no doubt is wearing, your eyes flit around the room. They eventually settle on the mass of shopping bags to your right. You turn, seeing the collection of various wrapping papers on the left and the collection of tape beside them.

"No," You repeat, turning your glare on him. "Wrap your own damn presents, Spice, I'm not doing it for you this year."

"But you do it so much better than I do!" He steps forward, setting his bribes in front of you so the scent wafts towards you that much more. "Your corners are always perfect, Pumpkin, and the edges are so well matched, and you get the pattern to line up perfectly, and-"

"No, Jin," You tell him, already standing. "I told you last year that it was the last time I'd be doing it for you, and that was only because you left it to the day before - again - and had to be in the bakery. I already wrapped all my presents, I'm not doing yours too."

He doesn't even say anything. He just widens his eyes a little and looks down at the scuffed tile floor, kicking his shoe dejectedly against the foot of the desk. There's utter silence in the room, only broken by the muffled chatter of customers and the beep of one of the ovens every few minutes.

You last for a solid ten minutes. You know because the smell of more mistledough fills the air, and you know Seokjin wouldn't try to bribe you with anything that wasn't the freshest batch.

"Why can't you do it?" You grumble, already sitting back down and picking through the wrapping paper.

"I've got like a hundred orders to fill today. That's not even really an exaggeration, either. Soobin's been on cake duty all day so that I can get to work on the mistledough orders and still have time to finish Tae's cake before we leave." You sigh and turn to look at him.

He looks stressed; that's not unusual for this time of year, but it still makes your chest clench. You want to pull him close, run your hands along the furrow between his brows until it's smooth again. Smother him with kisses until he's giggling and happy and remembers that he's a badass culinary god and that he can handle this and that you love him.

"I wish you would tell people no sometimes," You say instead. You slide one of the biodegradable rolls onto the desk and start looking through the drawers for the massive ruler you know is tucked away somewhere. "You can't fill every order. Let people pine for their fancy bread, they don't deserve it anyway."

"You know I can't do that, Pumpkin," He says, breaking off a piece of your bribe and leaning against the tattered desk. "We only just got to where we're steadily in the black, and the seasonal stuff brings in a lot of money. I've got to milk that for as much as I can."

"Yes, because you being overworked and stressed like this is a much better alternative. I'm pretty sure your eyebags have eyebags." You wait for the dramatic gasp, but it doesn't come.

Instead when you look up at him from where you're digging through presents, he's staring at the picture of the two of you. Whatever he's seeing is beyond that, though, invisible to anyone but himself. It's not rare that he gets introspective and quiet; it's actually fairly common when it's just the two of you. You don't know why. You don't want to know why. You just take the moments when they come and wait for him to say whatever he's going to say.

"You're my best friend," is what he eventually says. Your hand stutters where it's slicing paper, mimicking the pang of heartbreak that shoots through your veins. You love being his best friend.

You just wish you were more than that.

"Yeah," You say offhandedly, "No one else wanted the gig, so I guess I'm stuck here." You can feel his eyeroll, but he pats your shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen. When he reappears a while later with fresh cocoa and a bagel, you pretend to be mad that he steals a bite of it until he laughs at your grumbling.

When you leave his smile feels lighter, and you tell yourself you're imagining his eyes lingering on your back as you go.

You’re gonna kill him. You really are. You’re going to absolutely skin him alive, you don’t give a fuck how cute his face is or how hard he makes your heart beat. There’s not a single fucking thing he could say or do that would make up for this. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been out here waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe if your phone showed that he had even opened the last six texts you had sent him. Maybe if it wasn’t Seokjin who insisted on leaving at like ten in the morning to being with, even though you had plenty of time to get there because you didn’t even need to run by the bakery because he’d already put Soobin and Yeonjun through what probably counted as actual military training in order to prepare them for today. Frankly, it’s a miracle Seokjin is even leaving them on their own today, considering how hectic it gets. You’re entirely sure that it’s only because Soobin has worked there since the bakery opened and Yeonjun joined not long after so they both know the ropes as well as they possibly can. And because Seokjin was likely up until an ungodly hour preparing and baking an enormous amount of mistledough for today.

In fact, he’s probably still passed out up there, you decide as you climb out of your truck and head into your best friend’s apartment building. You’re cursing under your breath the entire way, paying no mind to the scandalized elderly gentleman that shoots you a Look. You really are gonna kill him, you decide as you shove the key he made you into the lock and jiggle the handle slightly so it’ll actually turn. You’re going to drag him out of his stupidly comfortable bed and probably try to shove him down the garbage disposal or something. His shoulders may present a challenge, but you are up for it. 

Your mind is so made up that you don’t even register the bags he’s got ready by the door, or the coolers full of groceries that are packed and ready beside them. You just sidestep it all entirely and head down the hall. You don’t even register the faint sounds, muffled by the door to his room, and by the time it all finally reaches your brain, it’s too late. You’ve already thrown the door open as wide as it will go, which means you get a perfect, unobstructed view, even as Seokjin startles and yelps. 

Because of course - of course - he isn’t sleeping or showering or packing. No, instead he’s got his fist wrapped around his cock and is thrusting shallowly into the warmth of his palm. The universe loves to torment you entirely too much, clearly. Why else would it offer you such an unhindered look at the love of your life’s dick?

It’s a nice dick, too. Long and the perfect thickness, a pretty dusky pink head. You can’t lie and say you’ve never imagined what Seokjin’s dick looks like - you basically grew up with him and the others, and young boys talk about their dicks. A lot. Plus, you’ve had a crush on him for several years now. 

You just never could have imagined that it’s so absolutely gorgeous that you can feel your mouth water. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away from it, in fact, until Seokjin gets over his initial shock and shoves his blanket over his lap. 

“What, uh,” He starts, throat rough. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh...you asked me to pick you up, remember? Because your car doesn’t have four wheel drive like the truck.” You learned a long time ago how to avoid being embarrassed around Seokjin, but even that can’t stop the burn in your cheeks as you force yourself to make eye contact with your best friend. It’s a struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the planes of his naked chest, broad and tanned despite the winter weather, but you manage. 

Barely. 

“Right, yeah, but...uh, weren’t you supposed to call? And aren’t you early?” The tips of his ears are as red as your face feels. The contrast between the current situation and his obvious shyness is so endearingly distracting, it takes you a full minute to focus back in on what he’s saying. “--at this point, I mean, I know that we apparently aren’t there yet, but really, I don’t mind-”

“Wait,” You interrupt, “I’m still stuck on how I called you four times, both before I left and en route and once I got here, waited another ten minutes since I got here early because I know you like to be early, and yet somehow this is my fault.”

“Well...you should have knocked! Why wouldn’t you knock when coming into someone else’s apartment or bedroom?”

“Why didn’t you hear me coming? The floor in your hallway is a million years old, it squeaks constantly, how did you miss that?”

“Well, I was a little preoccupied.”

“Clearly.”

“You still should have knocked.”

“Why did you give me a key if you wanted me to knock? And when have you ever knocked on my door when you show up randomly? Besides, I figured you were asleep and didn’t want to wake you up while I took all your shit out to the truck.” His face softens a little, and a shy smile teases at his lips. 

“Thanks, Pumpkin,” he says quietly. Your stomach flips violently at the look on his face and you roll your eyes at it. 

“Yeah, whatever.” You pick up the clothes he already has laid out and throw them at his chest. “Get dressed, you’re buying me breakfast on the way to the cabin.”

He doesn’t protest as you leave him and gather his bags up, balancing them atop the coolers of groceries and snacks he’s no doubt made for everyone. It only takes a little finagling, but you manage to get it all downstairs and into the backseat of your truck. Fat white flakes are falling from the grey sky by the time you’re finished, and Seokjin’s nose and ears are still pink when he eventually gets in as well. You turn the heat up, just in case it’s not residual embarrassment heating his face. 

He doesn’t even say anything except a muffled thanks. After a few minutes, you’ve almost resigned yourself to an awkwardly silent car ride. 

“So…” Seokjin eventually says in a too-casual tone. “About earlier-”

“No,” You hiss before he can continue. “No we are absolutely not talking about what happened.”

“Oh, come on,” He implores as you turn into the first drive-through you can find. “It was bound to happen eventually, considering-”

“We really don’t need to talk about it,” you insist. 

“I’m just saying that I know you aren’t really one for...y’know, sexual activity,” He ignores your open-mouthed gape and continues, “But I have my own needs, and self-satisfaction is the best balance between the two that I’ve found. That said, I’m sorry you had to see it, I know it probably made you uncomfortable. Because. Y’know. Dicks.”

You’re still gawking as he finishes his spiel, and you feel a little like a fish. You surely must look like one, with your mouth hanging open in shock, your eyes as wide as saucers, and the general air of befuddlement that surrounds you. There are so many things you want to say, questions you have, all of them colliding in your brain.

“I like sexual activity just fine!” is what makes it out, just as the speaker beside your window crackles to life. There’s a long, pregnant pause in which you and Seokjin just stare at each other. 

“So...what can I get for you today?” The worker says through the speaker. You want to die, just a little, as you rattle off your order and Seokjin’s to him; the universe hates you, obviously, that’s the only real explanation here. 

“We are not talking about this,” You tell Seokjin firmly as you pull away from the speaker. Your face is still burning, but you refuse to acknowledge it. “You are paying and then we are heading to the cabin and we are not ever speaking of this again.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. You almost believe that he’s dropped the subject, but unfortunately you know him too well for that. Which is why you shoot him a warning look as you pull up to the window and he starts to say something. 

“All I was going to say is that my parents asked about you the other day. They’re mad that you haven’t been by lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” You say as you hand Seokjin’s card to the kid in the window. “I haven’t had time to visit.”

“You visit Jimin’s grandma like twice a week.”

“Yeah, well, Granny Park and I are friends. Not to mention I still have to unseat her as the reigning go champion.” You don’t mention that you’re sneaking her mistledough and cookies so that she won’t blab about the fact that you’re in love with Seokjin. Or that every time you go to his parents’ house, they end up talking about weddings and asking when you’re getting married. You can’t deal with that, not when you factor in your feelings for their son. 

“I’m just saying. You’re like a daughter to them. They miss you. I’m going by there after we get back from the cabin, and I think they’d like it if you tagged along.”

All you give him is a noncommittal grunt and several bags of fast food. You love his parents, you really do. You just wish they didn’t come with the constant reminder that Jin only sees you as a sister.

He lets you eat in silence, though, content to munch on your fries and pretend most of the morning never happened. He sings along to every song that plays on the radio, and it isn’t until you’re about thirty minutes away from the city and doing your best to navigate the roads in the worsening snow that you get suspicious. 

“When you say you like sexual activity just fine-"

“I thought we dropped this!” He sends you a look that just says ‘really?’ and continues. 

“I just want to know what you mean. Because obviously we’re on two different pages.”

“I mean that I like it just fine. I enjoy it, it’s fun, I would like to continue having it in the future. What of that is strange to you?”

“No, I just...I was under the impression that you weren’t interested in that. You never really talk about it, and you’ve never mentioned any...partners, or anything so…”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of every person I’ve ever slept with.” You glance over at him, astounded, and are shocked to see that his lips are pursed in a frown and his brows are drawn together. You resist the urge to reach out and smooth the lines on his face. “Wait, are you actually upset about this?”

“It’s just...I’ve told you about every person I’ve slept with.” You wince a little because he’s right. You’ve heard about every single one of his sexual encounters, some of them in great detail, and you do your best not to think about them. “If I had known that you were interested, then-”

“What? You would’ve set me up with one of your friends?”

“Who was the last person?”

“What?”

“Who was the last person you had sex with?”

You look at him again, a quick glance to try to figure out if he’s being serious or not. His face is hard, an emotion you can’t place clear in the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure there’s an actual blizzard starting around us, and you want to know who I fucked recently?”

“Yeah, I do. Fair’s fair, Pumpkin.” Something in his voice raises alarms in your head. You could insist that you don’t want to talk about it; he’d respect it if you were really serious, you know he would. There’s an edge to him right now, though, one you haven’t seen in a very long time, and you don’t like it. You want to smooth it out, sand it back into the gentle lilt you love.

“Fuck, Spice, I don’t know. That guy from the bar that one night?”

“What night? What bar?”

“I don’t fucking remember, okay? It was like...fuck, years ago, I don’t even remember what he looked like, let alone his name or what bar it was. Are you happy now? For fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I had to report to you every time I wanted to get laid. You’re my best friend, not my keeper. I didn’t think it was any of your business.”

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch; between the sound of the heater going full blast and the Christmas carols he’s got blaring through your truck’s sound system, it’s hard to hear anything. Still, when you glance over at him again, something dark sits in his expression, and you’ve got a gut feeling it’s your fault. 

Things remain tense even after you arrive at the cabin. Seokjin doesn’t wait for you to help him, just loads all of his stuff into his arms and wobbles his way inside while you’re still slinging your overnight bag over your shoulder. The door slams behind you as you enter, caught by the wind of the growing storm outside, and you send what you hope is an apologetic wave to where Taehyung and Star - his girlfriend of forever and one of your closest friends - sit in the den. 

You immediately make your way to the kitchen, swiping a tin of cookies and making hot chocolate, all while ignoring the overly aggressive chopping your best friend is doing behind you. You’re sure Star and Tae aren’t surprised when you flee to the room that you’ve unofficially claimed over the years. 

You stay there for most of the day. The door stays open, just in case someone actually wants to come talk to you; you have no doubt that everyone can hear you cursing at the dog show you’re watching, and at one point you’re pretty sure you hear Namjoon’s voice steer someone away, but you can’t be sure. You don’t even want to be sure. All you really want is to know what the fuck you did to piss your best friend off and get him back to normal. 

You can’t just ask him, though, because he’ll no doubt get even angrier that you don’t already know, despite the fact that you have no way of knowing unless he actually tells you. 

Frustrated, you pick up your phone and flip uselessly through the chat you have with him, trying to find literally any explanation for how he’s acting. The group chat with all the boys plus Star and Cat has been quiet most of the day, only the offhanded comment about someone leaving now or going to be a little late. 

Your chat with just Cat and Star is almost as quiet. There’s a featured video of Seokjin blowing up at Jeongguk a bit too harshly considering the younger had just nabbed some kimchi before dinner, but that’s essentially it. You’re tempted to ask Star to get Seokjin to tell her what’s going on, but not only do you not want to drag her into whatever this is, you also know better. He wouldn’t tell her anything. She isn’t his best friend. 

As much as you’re looking forward to the rest of the night, there’s a sense of dread deep in your bones when you eventually emerge from your room. You only do so because you’re out of hot chocolate and you know that you’ll be dinner if you’re late to eat. 

You wave off Star’s curious look when she sees you; you don’t need her worrying about you, not when she’s got so much else to focus on, if the crutches leaned nearby are any indication. Hobi and Cat haven’t arrived yet, which only adds to the sinking feeling in your gut, but you brush it off. They would call if they had trouble. You know they would. Besides, Cat said they’d probably be leaving late. 

Seokjin doesn’t even look at you as you pass him to get to the dining table, and that hurts more than you’d like to admit. The real sucker punch comes once you sit down, however, when you see a mug of hot cocoa with your signature candy cane placed just to the right of your plate, only to realize that Seokjin’s mug of special coffee he loves so much is placed at the other end of the table. 

Away from you. 

Air catches in your lungs, and it sounds silly that you’re tearing up over your best friend not sitting beside you, but he always sits beside you. Always. No matter what the two of you have been fighting about, he’s always sat beside you because he likes to laugh at the faces you make about the conversations going on, and he feeds you the best bits of meat while you act annoyed about it but secretly love it. 

You knew Seokjin was upset, but you hadn’t realized he was this upset. 

Jimin sits beside you and introduces you to his neighbor, but you don’t even catch her name, just that he keeps calling her Snow and she looks at him like he’s the meal and that there’s a massive purple bruise along Jimin’s neck that you have a sneaking suspicion is her handiwork. She looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t be bothered to place her, not when Seokjin is laughing about something Star is saying and looks entirely too at home down there. 

On your other side, Namjoon and his roommate are talking about a science something or other that they’ve been working on. They’re both so invested in the conversation that neither notice Namjoon dumping the extra spicy sauce over his rice instead of the mild that he prefers. You can’t even bear to listen as he starts complaining to Seokjin that he made the food too spicy and the resulting tirade from the eldest. 

If anyone notices your sour mood, they don’t say anything. It’s not surprising, when you think about it; you’ve long been established as the grump of the group, and you don’t expect that to change, even with the girl Jeongguk brought along that seems torn between whether she actually likes him or not. 

Yoongi catches your eye at one point and you just cock a brow at him. 

“Where’s Jisoo?” You mouth at him across the table. He looks to Peaches, the girlfriend of his that you’ve only ever met once in passing, and looks back at you. You way your eyebrows at him halfheartedly and Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s disappointing that Jisoo isn’t here. She always provides some sort of entertainment.

If nothing else, she usually provides some semblance of distraction. 

By the time dinner ends, you’re fairly positive no one knows about your spat with Seokjin, or the strange tension between the two of you. You’re sure no one noticed how you didn’t eat much of anything; everyone was too wrapped up in their own conversations and relationships to pay much attention to little old you. 

You really should know better by now.

Jimin doesn’t move from his spot beside you, even as the others begin gathering dishes and your best friend disappears into the kitchen with the promise of cookies and chocolate-covered treats in an hour or two. Snow disappears, no doubt after a silent conversation between her and Jimin, and you roll your eyes at how he watches her disappear into the room they’ve claimed. 

The two of you sit in silence; it’s a game of wits, almost. You know he knows something is up, but you also know that he knows you aren’t one to just offer up your thoughts. But he knows that you know that, and he knows you know he isn’t going to let it go because he can tell something is actually bothering you this time. 

“So are we going to talk about why Seokjin has been so pissy all day and how there’s been a notable lack of Pumpkin by his side, or are we going to continue to pretend that everything’s fine like we did through dinner?”

You wish you were better able to resist him. Maybe your time with his grandmother has weakened you to him, and maybe you should work on being less transparent with him, but either way, you slump in your chair and set your empty mug of hot chocolate down with a thump. You still send him a glare that he smiles through and make a mental note to tell Granny Park that there’s a reason for his sudden need for scarves that she should ask him about. 

“We had a fight.” You eventually grumble, eyes darting to where Seokjin stands over in the kitchen, dipping marshmallows, pretzels, and other treats into melted chocolate. “I think.”

“You think?”

It doesn’t take very long for you to recount the day’s events to him. You even tell him about The Incident from that morning that you walked in on, because once you start talking you can’t seem to stop until he knows it all. 

“And now he’s pissed, I think at me, but I can’t figure out why. I mean, it wasn’t any of his business, but you know how I am with him, so it’s not like I could just not tell him, but I don’t understand why it pissed him off.” You huff a little. The frustration with everything that rolls in your stomach collides with the hurt you feel over Seokjin snubbing you, and it’s so distracting that you almost miss Jimin’s careful whisper of your name. 

“Have you ever considered just asking him?” Jimin says softly. “I’m pretty sure having an actual conversation with him would fix this whole thing.”

“But…” You hesitate, twisting a stray thread from your sweater between your fingers. “Jimin, what if he hates me?” 

There’s a vulnerability to your voice that you hate, one that only Seokjin, Jimin, and Granny Park have ever seen. It’s rare, mostly because you hate feeling vulnerable, but it makes Jimin’s eyes soften ever so slightly even as he bursts into a fit of giggles so powerful that he almost falls out of his chair. 

“This is not helping!” You hiss, shooting a look at where Seokjin is rolling out chocolate chip cookie dough. He doesn’t look up at Jimin’s outburst, but his lips twitch ever so slightly into a frown and the crease between his brows deepens. 

You know that look, too well. It’s his ‘I Do Not Care Even Though I Actually Do But I Don’t Want You To Know I Care” look. You saw it frequently when he first went off to college, when he was constantly worrying about all the boys he left behind in that little cul-de-sac. You really hoped it wouldn’t ever come back. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says eventually, wiping a tear away from one eye. “I really am, I promise, I’m just. Oh, I think I might lose a bet.”

“What? How is that helpful, Jimin? Y’know what, where’s that dumb dog thing Yoongi made you, I need to smush its face until I feel better--”

“What you need,” Jimin says as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to sit you back down in your chair, “Is to stop abusing my lovingly crafted plushies and actually talk to Seokjin.”

“I can’t tell him how I feel, you know this Chim-”

“Did I say confess?” Jimin asks as he stands, eyes flickering to where his neighbor-slash-girlfriend(?) is in their room. “Just talk to him. I mean really talk to him, okay, about why he’s upset. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Jimin doesn’t give you a chance to protest; he’s gone and disappeared down the hallway before you can blink, and you don’t want to know what’s happening in that room. 

Eventually you meander over to where Seokjin is sliding cookies out of the oven, each perfectly placed to allow for the perfect bake. You putter around for a minute or two, opening and closing cabinet doors at random. You aren’t finding anything interesting, certainly not the strength to have this conversation, which is why you’re startled when someone says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

You turn, and Seokjin is absently stirring leftover melted chocolate. When you fail to move, too busy staring at him in confusion, he turns and points to a cabinet beside you. “The cocoa,” He says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

“Thanks,” You mumble as you move toward it. Inside is a box of candy canes and a weathered tin that you recognize from Seokjin’s apartment. Its twin sits in the bakery, right beside the register so that it’s close at hand for when you inevitably come thundering in with a storm cloud above your head. Each holds the special cocoa recipe that Seokjin learned from his grandfather, who learned it from his grandfather. 

You chance a glance at your best friend; he knows how much you love that cocoa. The people in this cabin right now are the only people he’ll make it for - save for Hoseok and Cat, who still haven’t arrived. Seokjin’s ears are burning red, and a weaker person - or at least one less accustomed to him - may have cooed at the sight. But you’ve spent too long building up the walls so that he’ll never find out just what you keep tucked away in your heart. 

“I’m-”

“Sorry.” He finishes for you. “I know you are. And...I forgive you.” You nod at his words; you couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what had actually upset him, but you’re glad he’s forgiven you for it. Still, it nags at you, because what if it happens again? Unlikely, considering you haven’t been able to get laid in actual years because you’re too smitten with the man standing across from you, but still. 

“Are you going to tell me why you were upset, or are you just going to play with chocolate all night?” You eventually ask. He sighs, heavy and long, and turn to lean back on the counter beside you. He’s wearing his ridiculous alpaca apron that you got him for his birthday, and that only makes him more beautiful as he considers what he wants to say. 

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and it almost feels like he’s close enough to touch, but you just can’t seem to let your hand reach out to do so. You think if you could, you might be able to grab him and hold on forever, but something deep in your gut stills you. 

The fear of losing him, of losing everything that you have with him right now - late nights at the bakery, shopping for birthday presents, the quiet moments in a chaotic world where you find peace in each other. As much as it hurts to love him, as hard as it is to speak around the words that strangle in your throat that speak truth to every feeling you’ve ever locked in the recesses of your heart, you can’t risk telling him. Because this pining and loving and eventually watching him grow old with someone he loves?

That’s enough for you. 

“I just got jealous, I suppose,” Seokjin eventually says. “I always thought that you weren’t interested in sex, y’know? You mentioned it once in college that you’d tried it, but your little half-frown was there, so I knew you didn’t like it, because you get the same one every time you eat gingerbread because you hate it but you don’t want me to get disappointed that you aren’t eating the houses I make. I just thought it wasn’t something you wanted in life.”

“Um.”

“Which is obviously fine, sex isn’t for everyone, asexual people exist and are valid, as are those that are sex-repulsed, y’know? And I decided a long time ago when I first looked into it all that I didn’t care about sex in a relationship. That’s not the important thing to being partners with someone. But apparently sex is a thing for you, and I just wish I had known that because all this time I could’ve-”

“What, set me up with your friends?” 

“No, definitely not. It’s just that we...I could have...it just hurts to know that you’ll have sex with other people but not with me, even though I respect that it’s your decision to make.”

“What.”

“But I just...I know I’m not entitled to an explanation, but I can’t lie, I would really appreciate one if you can give it. I mean...I dunno, I know that I had sex with other people, but we had that whole conversation in college about it, and you seemed alright with it, so I did. And I always told you about them, because communication and openness is important, and I wanted you to know that I was respecting your boundaries with that while also satisfying my own needs. But it really did feel weird, because...y’know, so I stopped. And I guess I assumed that if you weren’t fucking me, you weren’t fucking anyone.”

“What.”

“I just really care about you, Pumpkin, and I know I know don’t really say it a lot because I’m more of a ‘showing it’ kind of guy, but...I just would have appreciated knowing that. Especially since I’ve always been more than willing to love you like that.”

“Spice,” You say slowly, being careful to keep your face blank. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Seokjin blinks at you owlishly. “What do you mean ‘what am I talking about,’ I thought I was pretty clear. I mean...yeah, I’d love it if you would have sex with me, but that’s your decision, and I’m curious as to your reasoning and logic. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, which is why I forgave you, because as much as it stings, it’s your choice. And I love you, as you know, so-”

“How would I possibly know that?” Your voice catches a little on the words, probably because you’re having a little trouble actually breathing. Everything is fuzzy and the words ‘I’d love it if you would have sex with me’ and ‘I love you’ are playing on a loop in your brain. Your entire world has just shifted on its axis, and yet Seokjin looks completely unbothered. 

“Maybe because I’ve put up with you so long?” He teases with a fond smile. “I mean, I know we aren’t the type to say the words very often, but c’mon Pumpkin. We’ve been dating since you were twelve, not many would last that long without even a kiss.”

“We haven’t been together since I was twelve, though.” He raises a brow at your confused tone. 

“Okay, thirteen, then.” He says. The confusion on your face must be apparent, because it begins to bleed into his, the beautiful features morphing to mirror your own. 

“Seokjin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t dating.”

His expression only gets more confused. 

“Uh, yes we are?”

“Uh, no we aren’t? When the fuck did that happen?”

“When you were twelve, as I said. I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I feel like I would have remembered that happening.”

“Then you should go to a doctor, because it definitely did. It was the best day of my life. We were sitting on the playground, it was recess, you were upset.”

“I remember none of that.”

“You cannot possibly have forgotten this!” Seokjin exclaims. “I cheered you up and offered you my cookie, which you ate in like two bites even though I had made it with salt instead of sugar and it had to be disgusting, because some girl had knocked your cupcake into the dirt-”

“Park Sooyoung, that bitch, I remember that-”

“And then,” Seokjin continues, ignoring your outburst, “I was so deeply honored that you ate that disgusting thing that I offered you the equal honor of being my girlfriend. And you nodded and I kissed your cheek and then you punched me in the arm - which hurt, I might add, for days - and then I watched you play Pokemon Sapphire on your Gameboy Advance.”

The memory rushes in, though not exactly how he remembers it. Park Sooyoung had knocked your cupcake out of your hands and into the dirt, and you had been so mad about it that you’d started to cry. Seokjin found you, curled under a tree away from everyone else, and when he eventually learned what upset you, he’d told Sooyoung off like no one had ever seen. And then he’d handed you the best cookie you’ve ever eaten.

You think maybe that was when you first started falling for Seokjin. With the salty cookie that masked the taste of your own tears, and the angry tirade he had gone on despite the two of you not having known each other for very long, with the wide smile and squeaky laugh and ears so red and cute that you couldn’t focus on whatever he was saying and just nodded along to it. 

“Well...why didn’t you say anything since then?” A thought crosses your mind, and it so horror-filled that you have to ask. “Do the guys know?”

“If they do, it’s not because I told them,” Seokjin answers easily. “When you introduced yourself as my friend, I figured you were just a very private person and didn’t want to rub it in their faces or something.”

“Is that why you always drag me along when you, Hobi, Tae, Cat, and Star go out for karaoke?”

“Obviously,” He scoffs. “What could be better than a triple date with your two best friends?”

“Literally anything! Hobi and Cat sing each other the most raunchy things I’ve ever heard, and Tae does all those weepy ballads or indie songs nobody recognizes, and Star’s got those dopey love eyes all night, it’s revolting.”

“You mean like those faces you make at me when you think I won’t notice?”

“I-” You huff, at a loss. “Well what about the other day, with that girl at Mistledough you were flirting with, who was flirting back and-” Realization hits you. “And she’s Jimin’s neighbor girlfriend lady!”

“Pumpkin. Are you serious right now?” He gives you a dry look, but there’s amusement written all over it. “You’ve heard my sales pitch a hundred times. You’ve given my sales pitch a hundred times, albeit with a little more of a monotone and general ‘I’ll kill you’ vibe to it. It was just so she’d buy all the treats I could possibly sell her.”

You make a small ‘hmph’ noise that you aren’t exactly proud of, but makes Seokjin laugh. He pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you there. It’s a little awkward, because your arms are still crossed over your chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind and despite all the muttered complaints you give him, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

“So…” Jin says in a too-casual tone after a few minutes. You muffle a groan into his chest, already preparing for the worst. “What kind of sex are you into?”

“Oh my god,” You mumble.

“Wait, you’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He clears his throat and stands to his full height. When he looks at you again, his eyes are full of something you can’t place exactly, but it makes your heart skip nonetheless when he says your full name. “Will you do me the honor of officially becoming my girlfriend? Again?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and nod. The grin takes over his face is blinding, worth all the trouble from the day, as is the soft kiss he presses to your cheek. You can’t help but huff when he pulls away from it, even, and he raises an amused brow at it. 

“Does this mean I can finally kiss you the way I’ve been dreaming of forever?” 

You do roll your eyes this time, but you let your fingers dance over his jaw and pull him into a gentle kiss. His lips are softer than they look, which you truly didn’t think was possible, and the way they mold and move with yours is warm and tender. You don’t even know how long you spend kissing Seokjin. Time isn’t real, not now, not with him pulling you closer and pressing warm against you like every single daydream you’ve let yourself have. 

Years of repressed urges and desire come out before you can stop them, though. Your hands move down to rest on Seokjin’s impossibly tiny waist, slipping behind his apron to tease at the waistband of his slacks. Why he insists everyone wear nice clothes to dinner, you couldn’t possibly say, but they make his ass look phenomenal so you never complain. 

The kisses become more heated, his tongue dipping out to taste your lips for a moment. Hands find their way to your ass and palm it greedily, and he tugs you flush against him. A hard length is pressing into you, and you don’t have to guess to know it's not the rolling pin. 

Images - memories - flash through your mind of that morning. Your mouth waters and you pull back from Seokjin. Panting, lips swollen from kisses, and half-lidded eyes, he's never looked better. 

"Can I suck your dick?"

He groans low in his throat and his eyes fall closed. "Fuck, Pumpkin, right here? Anyone could walk by." You drop to your knees as your hands undo the clasp on the pants. 

"Doubtful, they're probably having that post-dinner nap, or playing some game." Anxiety pools in your gut; you know quite a bit about what Seokjin likes in bed, but you've never been sure if exhibitionism is on that list. "Does it make you uncomfortable? I don't have to. I've just been thinking about it all day." 

Seokjin barks out a quick laugh and shakes his head. "No," He says, "I definitely would love for you to suck my dick in this kitchen if you want to."

"Good." You flip his apron to the side and tug his cock out of its confines. You don't bother dropping his pants all the way; there's no time, you're too impatient. "Let me know if anyone shows up." 

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off by a sharp intake of breath as you warp your lips around the head of him. One of his hands moves to grip the counter behind him and the other rests lightly on your crown; he doesn't pull or tug, just keeps his hand as a gentle pressure as you sink him deeper into your mouth.

As much as you've never been one for sucking dick, you're in heaven. There's no other explanation for why it feels this good to have him sitting heavy against your tongue as he hits the back of your throat. There are still two inches left so you wrap your hand around it and hollow your cheeks as you pull back. 

A strangled moan escapes him, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. Heat floods to your core and you kick yourself internally because you could have been doing this for years. Your tongue darts out to slide teasingly along the underside of his cock and he reflexively thrusts into your mouth. 

You cough a little and pull back, wiping spit from your lips as you catch your breath, and Seokjin is already spewing apologies. 

“I’m fine,” You say as you sit back against the cabinet, tugging him to stand in front of you. His back is to most of the kitchen and your head rests against the hard wood behind you while you eye the hard wood in front of you. “I can take a little bit of roughness, Spice, don’t worry.”

He looks hesitant so you ghost your fingers along his length to tease him. His jaw clenches at the same time his eyes close and you resist the urge to smile. Tension bleeds out of his shoulders and when he opens his eyes again, he quirks a brow in a silent question and you nod. 

In seconds, he’s in your throat once more, thrusting himself in and out at a slow pace that makes you clench with the desire to feel it elsewhere. You hollow your cheeks and suck properly as he fucks your throat, and he muffles another moan.

“Fuck, Pumpkin, please don’t stop,” Seokjin whines quietly. You smile, just a little, and take him back into your throat for a few seconds before pulling back and repeating the process. Each time he hits the back of your throat, he lets out a muffled groan that only makes you wetter. His cock is thick and your jaw aches and you’re struggling to breathe just a little bit, but the fucked out expression on his face is more than worth it. 

Something clatters in the hallway and you freeze, Seokjin’s cock sheathed to the hilt in your throat. His ears turn red and he starts to pull back, but you stop him with a hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, surprised, and you chance a wink that makes him chuckle. 

Footsteps make their way past, giggles following close behind, and you hear the door leading to the hot tub open and close. After a few seconds of silence, Seokjin relaxes, pulling out of your throat. You take a few deep breaths and glance over to the door, curious. 

“Jimin and Snow,” He tells you, one hand absently stroking along your cheek. “We probably shouldn’t use the hot tub tonight.” 

You wrinkle your nose. “Why would I want to anyway? Have you heard Namjoon’s lecture on what could potentially grow in a hot tub if it isn’t sanitized regularly? It’s not a fun lecture.” Seokjin laughs, squeaky and adorable, and helps you to your feet. He doesn’t hesitate to pepper kisses along your cheeks, and you wrinkle your nose even as tilt your head so he can get the places he missed. 

“Now when you said that you can handle a little roughness…” Seokjin says, voice a soft murmur in your ear. You make a small hum of affirmation, encouraging him to continue. “Does that mean I can spank you for not finishing blowing me, or is that something you’d rather not do?”

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You hiss, rubbing your thighs together. “Now you have to do it.”

He’s got you turned around in an instant, your fancy dress pants on the ground a few seconds later. His hands mold to your ass, cupping the flesh briefly through your underwear before letting his hands fall away. 

It’s methodical and slow and torturous, how he peels away that last layer keeping him from your wetness. You know that the fabric is soaked through, it has been since you first got his dick in your mouth, and Seokjin groans at the sight. 

“Even better than I imagined,” He mutters. Your cheeks heat in a rare blush, and you drop your head down between where your forearms are braced against the countertop. His hand smacks against your ass, lightly, and you choke back a laugh. Is that really what he thinks a spank is?

Another slap hits you, no real force behind it, and you scoff under your breath. 

“What?” Seokjin asks. When you look back at him, he’s expectant, like he knows what you’re about to say. 

“Is that what you call a slap?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back for another. It already looks unsatisfying, and you can’t help but push him a little further. “I always wondered why your dough doesn’t rise high enough. Guess I know now.”

His eyes darken and a chill comes over you. 

“Oh, is that how this is gonna be?” He asks. He gestures for you to face forward again and you do, curious as to the dark look in his eyes. 

Something hard and cold smacks into your ass, and you yelp in surprise. There’s a little more force behind it, enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to hurt. 

“Is that better, Pumpkin?” He asks. There’s a mocking tone to his voice, but when you look back, you can see the slant of his lips and tension in his jaw that shows he’s concerned. The rolling pin from earlier rests in his hands, and it flares something in your gut. 

“Much,” You tell him as you turn back around. He spanks you with it again, and again, and again, and it isn’t until you feel something wet drip down the back of your leg that you remember the chocolate he was fucking around with earlier. 

“If you get that on my nice clothes, I will destroy you,” You warn him. He laughs a little and there’s a thump as the rolling pin hits the countertop. 

“Is that code for get me naked?” He asks, a laugh in his voice. 

“No, that’s code for lick it up and then fuck my brains out.” 

The laugh in his throat quickly becomes a growl and he sets to work doing just that. His tongue runs over your skin, gently lapping at the chocolate there, and several times he gets distracted leaving purple marks in his wake. He even slides tongue along your slit, long and thorough and quick, and you almost come just from the obscene moan he lets out. 

"Fuck, please, I need you," You gasp out. Seokjin slides a hand under your shirt, massaging the muscles in your back as he does, and stands to his full height.

"Let me know if it hurts," He says softly. His voice is a whisper against your ear and it's never sounded quite so wrecked or beautiful. "I'll stop, okay?"

"If you don't get inside me in the next five seconds, I will go ask Jimin and Snow if I can join them in their kinky hot tub," you growl. 

He curses quietly and thrusts his length inside you. Neither of you are quite prepared for what it feels like, and the moment he gets buried to the hilt, he stills. 

"Shit, Pumpkin, I'm not gonna last long," He mutters. You can't even manage words. The stretch is absolutely blissful, just on the right side of painful when paired with the sting of your still-tender ass. He's the perfect height for this, too; perfectly lined up without either of you having to try very hard. 

He pulls almost entirely out, leaving just the dusty pink head you remember inside. There's not even a chance to whine at the loss, because before you know it, he's slamming back in. 

Seokjin's pace is erratic and harried; there's no smooth strokes here. You're both in too much of a rush, too drunk on the pleasure to want anything but release. 

Hands move along your skin, one lifting your shirt so he can pepper kisses along your spine while the other reaches down to gently tweak your clit. 

It takes three swipes of his finger to have your knees shaking with the power of your orgasm. You clench around him and he stills. You can't think, your brain is absolutely fried at this point; all you know is the feeling of him inside you and the disappointing emptiness when he pulls out. 

Warmth hits your back and Seokjin's moans echo in your ears. You're almost afraid to turn around, afraid this is some hyper-realistic dream.

"Shit, hold on, let me clean this up," he says, panting. You can hear him moving through the kitchen and when he comes back, something cold and wet slides along your back. 

You wait patiently as he cleans you up. He wipes away every instance of cum and chocolate from your skin - though he looks a little disappointed to be doing so, which you file away for later. 

"God, that's so much fucking cum," You say, wrinkling your nose at the mass of wet wipes he tosses in the trash while you fasten your pants once more. 

It's just in time, too, as Jimin and Snow come in from the hot tub, smiling and giggly with each other. 

"Ah," Jimin says, looking between you and Seokjin. "I did lose a bet. Damn, she's gonna be so pleased with herself."

You glare at him, but there's no real heat behind it. The two of them disappear to get dressed in actual clothes, and you and Seokjin set to work plating the cookies and treats he'd made. 

You can't stop the fond look at the rolling pin every few minutes. 

Later, after you discover Cat and Hobi have arrived safely and you make sure they actually eat the plates set aside for them, you're on the hunt for Seokjin. He's disappeared somewhere and it's almost time for the countdown. 

You finally find him - where else - in the kitchen, making a horrified face at Namjoon. 

"What? It was good," Namjoon says with a frown. Seokjin just waves him off and Namjoon shrugs, grabbing a couple glasses of champagne and heading back to Slick. 

You sidle up to him as close as you can get and he wraps an arm around your waist like it's second nature. It's surreal, that the man you love is pressing a kiss to your temple and handing you a mug of cocoa. 

"I'm glad we talked," He says eventually. You hum your agreement; you aren't looking at him, just staring down into your cocoa as you absently stir it with a candy cane, but you do lean into him ever so slightly. "Remind me to bake Jimin a cake."

"Why? What's he done to deserve a cake?"

"He helped me out earlier, while I was cooking dinner. Helped me figure out how to say what I needed to, that sort of thing."

Your face shoots up as your heart clenches in your chest. "Jimin," You echo. "Jimin is why you decided to talk about your feelings." Seokjin just nods, eyes wide and not understanding why you have murder in your eyes. 

"I'm gonna kill him so hard-" You say, already setting your mug down and turning to go find that short gremlin and skin him alive. You don't get two steps before a hand comes to rest on your shoulder, heavy but gentle. 

Seokjin pulls you closer to him, a smile playing on his lips as he does. "Why would you want to kill Jimin for that, Pumpkin?"

"Because!" You exclaim. "Jimin's the only one that knows that I-"

The words tangle in your throat, cloying together into a ball you can't seem to unwind. You're too used to choking it down. You don't know how to say it. 

"That you love me?" Seokjin finishes. You can't bear to look at him, huffing slightly as you turn to stare out the kitchen window at the snow-covered trees beyond. 

Seokjin's hand glides down your arm to wrap around your own, tangling his fingers with yours. With a grace you tend to forget he has, he brings them both upwards until he can press a soft kiss in the center of your palm. 

"Jimin isn't the only one that knows that, Pumpkin," He says quietly. You can feel your ears burning, a pleasant contrast from how it's usually him embarrassed and red. 

"Whatever," you grumble, giving up on your mission to brutally murder one of your best friends. Seokjin laughs, loud and squeaky and wonderful, and pulls you into another hug. 

"I love you too," He whispers. "Now, let's go join the others. I believe you owe me several years of kisses."

"You wish," You mutter half-heartedly. He hands you your cocoa and pats your still-sore ass with a wink.

"That's a great move."

"Really?"

"Yes." There's a pause as she waits for you to remove your fingers from the piece. "If you want to lose."

You offer her a weak glare that she ignores as she studies the board. 

"I'm glad that you and Seokjinnie finally got things figured out. It was very cute to watch, but it was getting a little ridiculous, you know." 

She moves a piece, and you squint to try to help you figure out her strategy. 

"Right, it had nothing to do with your bet with Jimin," You say sarcastically as you move another piece. You eye her, one finger still remaining on it, to try to figure out if it's what she expected. 

"Of course not," She says as you remove your hand. "That was merely a bonus." She immediately lays a piece, gaining even more of an advantage than she already had. 

"Well then," You start as you lay another piece, "I'm sure you know all about Jimin and his neighbor, and Star and Tae I don't need to tell you anything about Yoongi or Cat or Jeongguk, either, probably." 

Her fingers hesitate over the piece she's picking up, and her eyes narrow at you. 

"Ah, don't be so cruel. You're supposed to respect your elders, you know."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I’m so stupid,” you sob into his shirt.

Namjoon cups the back of your head, wishing he could remove every ounce of pain, every insecurity Jihoon’s words left behind. He may have walked away, but the damage he’s caused makes Namjoon’s blood boil. He wants to chase after him; he wants to hurt him the way he’s hurt you; he wants to physically unleash every ache that has been stewing all night in his heart. But he wants to be there for you more than anything else. If he has to choose, it will always be you.

“You’re not stupid. You just have a big, stupid heart...” He hugs you even tighter. “...and it’s my favorite thing about you.”

You don’t mind the way your ribcage is crushed in his embrace. It soothes the sting radiating from your body. Also you’re lowkey wishing that your ribs will break and puncture your lungs so you don’t have to think about everything that’s happened tonight.

It’s almost like the sky can sense the heaviness in your mind, epitomizing the weight of your emotions by slowly turning the light rain at your back into a downpour that quickly soaks your shirt. As you pry your face away from the comfort of his chest, rain splatters across your face, mixing with the tears that have already ruined your painstaking application of makeup for the evening.

Jennie, Hoseok, and Taehyung exchange pitying smiles. Despite wanting to comfort you, they know this moment isn’t meant for them and they slowly head back towards the entrance to the building. Jungkook stands firm with his arms crossed, completely engrossed in the way Namjoon comforts you, the way you stare at him, the way you clearly love each other. It’s like watching his favorite television drama, only better because it’s reality. It’s two of his favorite people finally navigating their feelings after an emotionally charged night. Are you going to kiss in the rain?

“We should get you home,” Namjoon mumbles, keeping his palms on your shoulders.

Droplets trickle down his forehead, dripping from his eyelashes as he blinks. He tries to ignore the chill of the rain soaking through his shirt, but the longer you both stand here like morons, the colder it becomes.

“I don’t want to go home,” you whisper with a shake of your head, knowing full well you will lock the door, turn off your phone and just wallow in self pity until you’re forced to leave bed and go to work on Monday. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Please.”

“You’re never alone.” A sad smile spreads across his face. “You have all of us.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The sadness in his lips disappears and he laughs, running his hands down the slick sides of your arms until he runs his fingers along yours. Time seems to slow as you pout at him, heart racing in your chest as your wet fingers slip against each other. Your palms clamp together with a wet squelching sound.

“If you don’t want to go home, do you want to…” he starts slowly, as if he’s afraid of your answer.

You’ve come over before but you’ve never spent the night at his place. He’s the one who always crashes on your couch, not the other way around. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Just ask.

“...come over my place instead?”

You smile as you nod and give his hands a reassuring squeeze. Pressing your face into the crook of his neck, you shyly ask the question on your own mind. “Will you please hold me tonight, too?”

Hoseok turns around with a gasp, realizing Jungkook isn’t with them. He quickly runs back to grab him by the ear. “Jungkookie you’re going to ruin everything. Let’s go,” he hisses, dragging him back towards the club.

Even in the rain, he catches the puffy, reddened nature of Jungkook’s eyes before the younger man wipes at them. Combining that with the proud grin and the way he refuses to remove his gaze from the pair of you even as he’s being pulled away, Hoseok rolls his eyes. What a baby. Before he can tease him for being sensitive, Jennie is already chastising him.

“What the fuck, Jungkook? Give them some space.”

“Aww, I just wanted to watch a little longer,” Jungkook whines even as Taehyung is shaking his head at him. “I was hoping to see a little more action.”

“Don’t be a perv.” Jennie pinches his arm hard and he whimpers. But for the first time she notices the glossy texture in his eyes. "Are you crying?"

Jungkook scoffs, pushing past her. "What are you, crazy?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The drive had been quick. Thankfully, Namjoon doesn't live very far from that particular club. Between your emotional state of mind and the severity of the rain assaulting your windshield, you’re not sure you could have safely made a longer drive. You step into the elevator, Namjoon’s hands guiding you inside. His arms wrap around your torso, attempting to cut off the chill soaked into both of your clothes as the doors slowly close.

“You okay, Geeksquad?” His words sound distant, despite the fact that he’s close to your ear.

“Yeah… Yeah!” You try to sound chipper but all you manage is to showcase the fact that you’re not. You purse your lips together, knowing that was pathetic. Hugging your arms over his, you spare a glance at him. The incredulous expression on his face is killing you.

“Don’t let him get inside your head,” he says, armed with the knowledge of how much damage those toxic thoughts can do.

“He was right.” Your voice breaks the second you speak, even as you try to keep the tears in.

Namjoon shakes his head before dropping his chin to your shoulder. “No. He couldn’t be more wrong about you. You’re funny and kind and beautiful. That fool didn’t deserve to be breathing the same air as you.”

You let your chin drop to your chest, nuzzling your nose beneath his arm. “I’m boring. I work with computers because I like it. I like to watch movies and do nothing all day. I like video games and sitting on my butt playing through stories I could never dream of. I like to sit in parks and space out for hours staring at the sky. I know it doesn’t make for great conversation. How do I defend against that? He’s right. I am boring. I’m a loser.”

You pause to sniffle, finding that the words just won’t stop coming. “And that makes me desperate for anyone to see past the layers and love the person inside. Just like he said. I know I have more to offer and I want people to see it. It’s just so hard to show anyone why I matter, why I should be considered, when all I see when I look at myself is the same timid marching band geek I’ve been since high school.

“Bullied. Passed over. Cheated on, then dumped for someone prettier. Too nervous to say hi. Too shy to say how I really feel out loud. I mean, I have eight friends and most of them I only have because of you. Most people wouldn’t willingly get to know me without an ulterior motive and I was stupid to think otherwise. To top it all off, I’m barely a six. Barely average. I mean when you put it all together, it makes sense why nobody has ever loved me.”

Namjoon is quiet, pressing his cheek against yours and listening to the uneven breaths you take. “You deserve to see how amazing you are. All those things you think make you a loser, or unworthy of love, they’re ingrained in your DNA. They’re a part of you and you can’t cover it up, and you shouldn’t. These things are little pieces of you that are beautiful fractions of the person I know. You think no one has ever loved you, but you don’t know how other people think or feel. Sometimes we’re all too shy, too scared to say the things we really want to say.”

He licks his lips and breaks his hug, planting his hands on your shoulders and spinning you towards him. “I’ve seen you, everything you are. Every last wonderful fractal of your soul shines, even in the dark and I…” He blinks slowly, his heart caught in his throat. “...want to be the prism in your light. I want to capture the beauty of your soul and reflect it back at you. But I need to open your eyes so you can see the way I do.”

Your heart skips a beat as his palms warm the wet clothing at your shoulders. How can he take words and make them into such beautiful things? Trembling beneath his touch, you wipe the tears from beneath your eyes and bring a shaky palm to his cheek, thumb sliding between his nose and his cheekbone.

“You think too much of me,” you choke out with a laugh, cutting the tension in the space between you.

He shakes his head again, nuzzling into your touch with a laugh. This feels… right.

“Before I knew you, my heart was only filled with straight lines,” he mumbles.

Your brow furrows, but your stomach does a flip within the confines of your body. Did you hear him correctly? “Namjoon?”

“Your imperfections make you human, like me. I’m just a human,” he takes a deep breath, courage surging in his veins when he locks eyes with you. “You erode all my edges and make me into love.”

You forget how to breathe, legs threatening to buckle out from beneath you. The trembling in your hands has spread and it’s impossible to attribute it to the waterlogged clothes on your body. Your jaw quivers, unable to find the words to speak. You’re worried you’ll undo every beautiful phrase the man before you has uttered if you open your mouth now.

“We’re humans in that myriad of straight lines. My love,” he whispers in a low breathy tone, taking your hands and placing them over his chest. “Sit on top of it and it becomes a heart.”

You stand with your shaking hands stacked over his heart, too scared to move. His lips part as his brown eyes open wide, unsure what else needs to be said. Did he make it too complicated? He thought it was poetic. Maybe his final draft needs more work. He knots his eyebrows and tries again.

“You say that no one loves you, but then you don’t know how I feel. I love the things you don’t like about yourself. I love the things you do. I love the things you’ll never know or see. Your charm, your wit, your jokes, your laugh, your smile… All your layers. All your beauty. Physical, emotional, all of it. I love it. I love you.”

His tongue wets his lips despite how dry his mouth feels and he swallows, waiting for a response. Was it too blunt this time? Was it too simple? You’re still just staring at him with your mouth hanging open, unmoving. He really hopes that this moment passes quickly. If you’re really uncomfortable he will let you have his bed and he will sleep on his own couch, but he has to know one way or the other and the silence in the elevator is maddening.

The truth of it is that your mind needs to reboot and process. He’s so eloquent that you feel stuck trying to construct a response that feels adequate. It feels like someone pulled the power cord out before you were finished shutting down and fired your system back up with the press of a button. The fans are spinning but the motherboard still needs a minute. Slowly your hands move up towards his shoulders, trailing a path up his neck and come to rest on either side of his face with your thumbs curled underneath his jaw.

Namjoon tries to beat back the hope bubbling in his gut, worried something else is going to happen. Something will change. Something will interrupt. It always does. Or this isn’t what he thinks at all and you’re about to give him the softest, most heartbreaking letdown of his existence. He panics and freezes, waiting for the ache in his heart to amplify.

Words aren’t so good right now, but actions speak louder anyway, right? Gathering every last speck of courage you can, you close your eyes and lean forward to bring your lips to his. The sensation sparks fireworks in your brain, your stomach rumbling with a heat that makes your heart feel like it’s a hot air balloon taking off and your torso is floating away from your legs.

By the time Namjoon’s brain catches up to the realization that you’re kissing him, his hands are already at your back and in your hair, desperately pulling you closer to him to expand on what you’ve offered. He immediately dips his tongue inside your mouth, feeling you, tasting you, finally having you. You’re kissing him. You’re actually kissing him now. Is this a dream he’s about to awaken from?

His back hits the wall of the elevator when you fall towards him and you mumble an apology against his lips, but he simply grabs a fistful of your hair and clamps his mouth back down, sliding his tongue against yours. A throaty moan replaces the words of reassurance he means to say. He wants to commit the feeling of your lips to memory and he's well on his way when the doors slide open.

It would have been fine if you both didn't act like getting caught was the most embarrassing thing in the world, bouncing to opposite ends of the elevator like ping pong balls. The young woman entering purses her lips and shifts uncomfortably as she looks from you to Namjoon. She settles her gaze on the floor and presses the button for her destination, reminding you both that you haven’t left the ground floor.

You press your forehead into the wall and find an interesting spot to stare at. Namjoon awkwardly shuffles forward and finally presses the button with the "8" above it. You all wait in painful silence for the woman's stop.

Ding… Ding... Ding... Ding.

The doors open and the girl scurries out as quickly as possible. Namjoon clicks the close button multiple times, wishing the technology would respond faster to his touch. The doors close just as he looks over at you, quickly crossing the space and turning you by your shoulders to face him.

"Geeksquad."

Leaning against the wall, you shamefully drag your eyes to his, wincing as his thumb grazes the welt beneath your shirt.

"Shit, sorry," he whispers, carefully sliding his fingers down your arms until they rest at his sides.

Ding.

"No, no. It's fine. Just… Please." Shaky fingers reach for the back of his neck, coaxing him to move back towards you.

Ding.

He places his palms on the wall beside your head, leaning into your touch with a heavy exhale.

"Please, what?" The question escapes with a cracked whimper. You're driving him insane.

"Please don't stop touching me tonight." The words you've chosen are far more sinful than either of you anticipate.

But if you're honest?

Ding.

His reaction makes it worth it.

As the doors open you're panting against his ear, eyelids fluttering to catch the glint of metal reflecting the light from the hall. Namjoon is busy coating your neck and jaw in sloppy open-mouthed kisses, growling against your skin when you weakly claw at his shoulders to get his attention. He suppresses the urge to grind his throbbing cock against you and instead starts sucking bruises into your neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh. If he teases you enough, will you do the same to him?

As light as your head feels from the high of his tongue massaging the tension from your body, you tug at his hair. He's not going to move without some prompting but you really don't want to spend the night in the elevator.

"Door. Door. Door," you repeat with a breathless whine.

He grabs your hips, walking you towards the exit as the doors begin to slowly slide together. He sticks his hand out just in time to catch the sensor, parting the barrier before it can completely shut. Okay, Namjoon. Control yourself. Few more steps. Get into the apartment.

"Sorry. Got carried away," he says, giving the blossoming color on your neck a nervous glance.

You shake your head at him and offer a goofy grin. "Please get carried away more often, preferably somewhere less public."

He forces his hands away from their perch on your hips and instead twines your fingers in his as he leads you down the hall.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You slip your arms through the oversized white t-shirt he’s given you, the fabric stopping just above your knees to act as a makeshift nightgown. There have been multiple times you’ve teased him for owning clothes that are easily four times his size, but for once you’re thankful for it. Your wet clothes hang over the sliding door to the shower and you use the damp, dark material to rub the remainder of makeup off your eyes. It’s dirty anyway.

Holding the sweatpants he’s provided, you purse your lips in contemplation and stare at the doorknob. Do you even bother putting them on? The shirt you’re wearing covers plenty. You debate taking your panties off because those are wet too, but for an entirely different reason.

Sparing a glance at your reflection, you quickly realize you can see the faint circles of your nipples poking out from beneath the shirt. The material is so worn down that it’s almost sheer, the once black band decal on the front now a faded gray. A blush warms your face as you wonder if this was a carefully selected garment for his own benefit.

Despite the anxiety in the back of your mind telling you that you’re completely unfuckable, Namjoon’s affirmations of love sit in the front row of your brain, replaying like a song you can’t get enough of. Your lips are still swollen from the hungry way he kissed you and you drag them over your teeth as you consider how fucking good it felt to finally give in to the devil on your shoulder.

You stare yourself down as two peaks form beneath the sheet of white over your chest. Just the t-shirt it is. You’ve never been more thankful to have preemptively shaved your legs for a date in your life.

As you pull the door open, your mind is replaying the hottest moment in your life: the way he had you pressed against the wall of the elevator. Reality smacks you in the face in the form of his massive chest. He bashfully apologizes, looking you up and down with a warm smile before swallowing hard and slipping past you.

The door closes behind him and without his gaze on you now, you’re left with increased feelings of anxiety. Clutching your elbows, you wander into his bedroom, hoping to silence the noise in your head by dramatically flopping into his bed.

As you wait for Namjoon, you get comfortable on the pillows, turning your body to one side as you watch rain assault the large window nearby. A shiver runs through you, reminding you how much of a chill is still left in you from the rain. You’re regretting not putting on the sweatpants now as the t-shirt rides up over your thighs, so you bury yourself beneath the plaid duvet, sliding your legs against the soft cotton sheets beneath and curling the material around your face.

The light in the room dims. The flash of blue and purple catches your eye, a tiny projector firing up across the room with a soft hum. You follow the light it casts to the soothing presence of slow-moving stars twinkling on the ceiling. The soft glow of orange LED candles on the nightstand beside the bed contrasts the calming sight above you in a way that makes you feel warm and safe, even though nothing has changed in terms of temperature or security.

You smile in disbelief at the breathtaking galaxy as Namjoon shuffles under the covers beside you, never taking his eyes off you.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, mouth hanging agape as you watch stars twinkle in and out of existence.

You reach up as if to touch the sparkles above, knowing that the action is as useless as reaching for the stars outside; it’s an optical show of light refracting against glass, but it’s still so fucking pretty that you allow yourself to pretend for just a moment that you can feel a galaxy at your fingertips.

“Yeah?” he asks with a laugh, looking at something far more perfect than the lights dancing across the ceiling.

He props his head up with a folded elbow, taking in the childlike wonder on your face with a grin of his own. He’s spent many nights falling asleep under this fabricated sky, but it’s never felt as magical as it does now with you beside him. How cheesy would it be to tell you that? Should he say it? Would you love it? He decides he doesn’t want to ruin the moment with his corniness.

“I used to camp a lot in my backyard when I was little. Fell asleep under the stars a lot.” He reaches for your hand, drumming his fingertips over your knuckles. “When I grew up I found it hard to sleep when I couldn’t see them.”

“Surprised you haven’t broken this projector,” you tease with a grin, curling his fingers over your hand.

“Yeah.” He laughs. “It’d be okay if I did though. I don’t need that universe to sleep anymore.”

“Really?” You look over at him, the orange glow of the candle framing his head like a halo.

He nods with a smile, going for all the cheese he missed earlier. “‘Cause I got youniverse.”

You cup your hand around his jaw and you shake your head even though you’ve got the biggest grin on your face. “You’re so fucking corny, oh my god. You’ve been spending too much time with Seokjin.”

“No, see it’s double funny because--”

“Joonie, I got it,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes with that big goofy grin splitting your mouth wider.

He feels the need to further explain, digging a hole to put the rock he’s about to die on. “Because it can be taken like you are the center of my youniverse. But also you’ll fix it probably and you can call it yours--”

Your lips press against his, muffling the sound of any further explanation, extinguishing the blazing trail of thoughts, turning them into hazy stacks of steam that threaten to pour out his ears. He prays if this is a dream that he doesn’t wake up. Knowing what your lips feel like when you’re kissing him, how soft they are, the motions your jaw makes, the way you taste, means he can’t go back to pretending like he doesn’t.

His eyes open in time to catch your satisfied expression as you place a palm over his chest and press him flat against the bed.

"How have I never noticed?" you ask, losing yourself in his handsome, dimpled smile.

"Hmm?" He folds one arm behind his head while trailing his fingers across your forearm. He's a little distracted by the way his favorite shirt slips away from your chest just enough to expose a bit of your collarbone.

"How much you feel like home," you respond, cupping his face with your hands.

He licks his lips, pretending to tuck hair behind your ear just so he can use the excuse to rest his palm on your cheek. "Must have been that firewall you're always talking about. What, did you decide it was time for it to come down?"

"Pfft. No. Firewall is in full effect," you say, resisting the urge to explain how whitelisting a program works and the comparison it draws to your love life. "Just… For everyone except you."

You reach over his body, leaning across him to grab your phone from the nightstand as you maintain eye contact. It takes the full remainder of his self control to keep his hands to himself as your tits squish against his chest. From the devilish glint in your eye and the teasing flick of your tongue over your lips as you brush your nose against his, he knows it's a purposeful action.

You navigate to Tinder as you rest your head beside his, angling the phone towards him so he can watch. You open the app and ignore the unread messages in favor of hitting the account settings.

"I'm an idiot for ever downloading this app," you mumble, pressing the link to delete your account. The prompt on screen asks if you're sure, citing loss of conversations, matches, profile data, literally everything as unrecoverable once you agree. You've never been more sure about anything in your life.

Just like that your profile is gone and after a few seconds, so is that awful app. You press the power button to turn the screen off and look over at him.

"You're everything I want." You begin brushing your fingers through his hair. "I was too stupid to figure that out on my own. I shouldn't have needed an app to realize that, but I guess sometimes I need a little help getting out of my own head.”

You reach over him again to put your phone back on the nightstand, this time hovering instead of pressing into him because suddenly you feel shy. You’re not just latching on to some random person. This has been brewing for some time now and it’s clear now that it can’t be anyone. You may be desperate to be loved but that stems from you loving and being afraid to admit it, to be loved in return by the object of your unsung affections. He’s already done the hard part. Can’t you just do one thing right and gather your courage for once in your life?

"I love you."

The words somehow feel natural and terrifying at the same time. Your body betrays the bravery in your tone by allowing your arms to quake as your palms sink into the mattress beside him. Even though he's the one that said it first, doubt creeps in your mind. What if he was just caught in the moment?

He doesn't allow your thoughts the time they need to splinter into a thousand more. Goosebumps break out over your body as his arms wrap around your back, slowly pulling you down into a chaste kiss.

"I knew I loved you a long time ago. I knew it when you bailed my ass out of trouble even though it broke your finances to the point you started biking to campus to keep from spending on gas. Yes, I knew, and yes, I still think you’re a fool for stretching yourself so thin... I knew it when you agreed to meet my friends and made them all fall in love with your soul the same way that I did. I knew it when I started binging movies with you and falling asleep on your couch, wishing I was holding you instead." His words are soft as he hugs you close to him, trying the soothe the tremors causing your body to involuntarily vibrate. "But I only accepted it recently, so I guess I'm twice the idiot you claim to be."

You laugh, rolling your forehead across his as you brush noses. "Is that so? I'll remember that the next time you bring up that IQ of yours."

He smiles, planting another innocent kiss on your lips before murmuring, "Wow. The disrespect is real."

You giggle, taking the opportunity to roll off him. "Sorry, should I be nicer to you now?"

"Don't you dare," he laughs, sitting up and tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. "Do you mind? I'm gonna overheat otherwise. Central air can only do so much."

You shake your head and the material slips over his head, exposing pectorals that are bigger than expected. Your mouth waters as you take in the sight of his dark golden skin and two rigid brown nipples in the low light. You're already scanning the moles between them, trying to form an invisible constellation that you might count yourself lucky enough to run your tongue across later.

You bite your lip as he balls the shirt up and launches it across the room because for the first time you're actually able to process how fit he is. The skin of his stomach is firm and smooth, lined with a fine trail of hair that disappears into his sweatpants. His arms are bigger than you remember them being and it spawns the memory of how good they feel wrapped around your back.

Suddenly you're grateful for the underwear you kept on because it's easier to hide the soaking nature of your folds when there's something to help absorb it. He settles in beside you, breathing a sigh of relief at the cool air touching his skin. You look towards the ceiling, trying to pretend you weren't just ogling his perfect body, but you're a second too late. He catches the longing expression and the subtle smack of your thighs clamping together.

"Geeksquad," he mockingly chides with a surprised laugh. You bury your face in the blankets as he grins, drawing you towards his obscenely hot chest.

It's not fair. How is he so hot so suddenly? You can't even think. Doesn't he know he can't just magically become hot the moment you admit to being in love with him? That's not how this is supposed to work.

"Oh, did I embarrass you?" he teases.

You pull the bedsheet up his chest, creating a layer between your cheek and the source of your shame before covering your head with the duvet.

"Rude," you mumble against the fabric.

He slowly uncovers your head and you glare at him even as he squeezes your body close to his. He presses his lips to your forehead and you melt into a puddle.

"You don't have to stop thirsting just because I called you out. It's cute and I'm not used to it. That's all."

"Oh no. I can't hear you. I am asleep," you say, despite your eyelashes fluttering as you inhale the calming musk he emanates.

He clicks his tongue. "I can feel you blinking."

"No."

He can't help but grin at the familiar scenario. "How are you gonna tell me no? I feel it."

"No," you whine again, this time turning your face into his chest to smile.

His fingers trail paths up and down your arm and you feel yourself already beginning to doze.

"Joonie?"

"Hmm." It sounds like he’s in the same boat.

"Thank you," you mumble.

His sleepy response is delayed. "For what?"

"Being my home."

He hums a sleepy note of affirmation and you hug him as tightly as you can muster, feeling his hand playing with your hair before allowing sleep to claim you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Muted light floods the room as heavy raindrops barrage the window. The sky is a dark grey so it's not like daybreak presents a horrible wakeup call. Still you glare daggers at the half-drawn navy curtains. It's not far. You reason that you can get up, close them, and be back in bed before Namjoon even stirs.

The heavy arm wrapped around your waist makes it difficult to want to move. Instead of peeling him off of your body, you find yourself nuzzling into the arm beneath your cheek and folding your fingers over the ones nearly tucked beneath your hip. You inhale deeply, trying to use the memory of his scent as incentive. On exhale you slip out from beneath him and slide the curtains closed as quietly as possible, allowing a dull darkness to coat the room. Carefully using your hands to navigate your way back to your spot, you feel along the mattress for his hand but it’s nowhere to be found.

As you wiggle back into place, his arm comes down over your waist to envelop you in a tight embrace. “Thanks for closing that.”

“Mmm-hmm,” you hum, closing your eyes even though the light airy feeling in your chest makes it impossible to drift off. You want to feel him against you like this forever. Missing out on the heated sigh against your ear, the covetous pull of his arm against your body, and the solid mass of his chest pressing into your back would be a crime.

“Namjoonie, are you going back to bed?” You turn your face towards him and he lifts his head to look at you.

“Are you?” The words are barely above a whisper, but cracked and rough, still thick with the grogginess of slumber.

The fan of reality begins to spin its blades of clarity, clearing the fog of sleep from your brain. Is this real? Is everything you remember real? You’re here in Namjoon’s bed, wearing his t-shirt, wishing you never have to leave. You’d wager it is. His dark brown irises disappear behind the heavy shades of his eyelids and reappear slowly as he takes in the beautiful wonder in your expression.

“I don’t think I can,” you admit, smoothing back the hair falling in his face.

He leans into your touch, letting his eyes close. You allow your palm to slide down his cheek and he turns his head to press his lips against it as it descends to cup his chin.

“Me neither,” he murmurs, slowly turning his slightly more alert eyes back to yours.

Why do I feel so nervous? We kissed. He told me he loved me. I told him I loved him. The hard part is over. I wanna do it again. So why do I feel like I’m gonna throw up? Why can’t I bring myself to move?

The longer you stare into his eyes, the more terrified you feel. Frozen in place, you begin the mental gymnastics you’ve grown accustomed to performing while thinking about him. Last night was emotionally charged. Maybe he was swept up in the moment. Did he really mean what he said? Maybe he was trying to make you feel better. Maybe now that it’s morning he regrets everything. Maybe that look in his eye is pity and you just want it to be awe.

He’s too good for you. He’s always been too good for you. Isn’t that the real reason you’ve never entertained this idea for longer than a millisecond? Because if you drop every defense mechanism you have and let yourself be raw with him, he’ll see he deserves far better. He’ll leave. The way he takes care of you, talks with you after bad days, assures you when your confidence wanes, massages your shoulders when he reads your tense body language, it’s all too good for you and he deserves someone who can do the same for him. But god. You still want it. You still want him. You’ve been ungrateful and clueless, but you can’t stop yourself from being selfish. How can he accept you being subpar when he consistently goes above and beyond for you?

“You’re holding your breath,” he comments, already aware you’ve got something big caught in the cogs of your brain.

You turn your head away to exhale, forcing a laugh. “You’re lucky. I’m sparing you my morning breath.”

As soon as your hand leaves his chin and it looks like you’re about to roll away, he makes the split second decision to catch your wrist. “Maybe I want it.”

“Don’t be gross Joonie.” You don’t dare look at him because you know you’ll only wilt under his gaze, but you allow yourself to be guided back against the safety of his chest.

“What? I’m dead serious,” he replies, releasing your wrist in favor of gliding his fingertips gently down your side. His gut is living in turmoil, preparing itself for the moment you say you want to call it off, that you want to forget everything again and pretend like nothing happened. He knew it was coming. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. Breathe.”

You want to tell him everything you’re thinking but the words won’t form. You take a deep breath in through your nose, choke on the exhale and flop your body around to face him.

“You can tell me. It’s okay. I’ll still be here. It’s okay.” The pit in his stomach threatens to pull tears from his eyes but he holds them in, rubbing your back instead and fighting the sickness building in his throat.

“I’m selfish, Joonie.”

The words are broken as they escape you and that stone in his stomach wrenches every last bit of dread it can from the dark tendrils around his heart, causing it to sink. He doesn’t speak. He can’t. He’ll break too. You’re crying as you look up at him and he feels himself cracking, falling to pieces in the moments between your words. Last night was too good to be true. He swallows and dons a mask of stone.

You swallow down the fear and embarrassment stinging your cheeks as you lay here trying to gradually pry your heart out of your chest for him. He waits with an unreadable expression, suffering without allowing a single complaint to pass his lips, despite your frequent hesitation. How does he have so much patience for you?

“You’re so good to me all the time. You know what I need before I do. And I… want to be that good for you. But I don’t know how.” A choked sob makes its way out and you stutter out an apology before continuing.

“You deserve someone who can pick up on things the way you do. I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you… but I want to be. I want to be so badly.” You sniffle, sucking in the snot threatening to drip from your nose. “I know it’s selfish, but please. Let me try to be half as good to you as you are to me. I know I’m a mess but I promise I’ll do my best. But I’m scared...” You swipe at your tears as his hand settles on your back, unmoving.

“I’m scared you’ll think I’m not worth the effort. Spending the night with you like this… Finally letting go of my fear... it was pretty much everything I’d been dreaming of for weeks, but now I just feel guilty because it's like I'm waking up next to an actual Saint and… you’re waking up next to a mess of a human. I’m sorry that I’m not… " You search for the perfect word, but fall short, just like you always do. "... better.”

A relieved laugh bubbles from his throat. “Oh wow. Me? A Saint?” Another string of laughter follows. “Is that what you’re worried about? Do I need to start teasing you again? Will that help?"

He pokes your side and you squeak. As much as he wants to pull more of the same sound from you by digging his fingers into your side, the urge to reassure you is stronger.

"I told you being messy is human nature. I mess up all the time… I’m just a human,” he says, smiling as he lifts your chin so you meet his glossy-eyed gaze. “...You erode all my edges and make me into love.”

He said that last night too. What else was it he said? It was so poetic but you’re struggling to remember. You grab his hand and press it to your chest. The t-shirt is a little wet from your tears, but it’s warm from the heat swirling in your chest. You hope he can feel your heartbeat beneath his palm.

“Something, something… and it becomes a heart?” you ask with a sheepish grin and a sniffle.

“Something like that,” he laughs, causing the tears wading in his eyes to crash down against his cheeks. “Listen. I didn’t fall for you because I want you to be some pinnacle of perfection placed on a pedestal. I fell for the you that you are. Every flaw is just another part I love. You’re... a lot of things, but selfish isn’t one of them. Seeing you as you are and not who you pretend to be… It’s more than I can express. But ‘I love you’ comes close.”

All the noise in your head scatters in different directions as he sweeps a path of clarity through your thoughts with his words. Your heart swells with the big inhale you take, causing his hand to rise with your expanding chest.

He pauses to roll his eyes and cut the tension. “At least not in this case. Trust me. If anyone’s selfish, it’s me.”

“You? Really? I don’t believe that. You're always too good to me. There's no way.”

You smile at the adoring look in his eyes, melting into a puddle when soft dimples form just outside his lips. How did you manage to not fall for so long? You look down at the shape of those luscious, velvety smooth lips spreading wide to expose a set of beautiful teeth. Your tongue absentmindedly swipes along your mouth as you try to purge thoughts of how good they felt nipping at your neck last night. As you swallow and bring yourself to focus on his eyes, he grins wider. You really have to work at being less obvious because this whole getting caught ogling him thing is becoming increasingly more embarrassing.

“Mmm. I think you’ll find I’m very selfish because I don’t want to share...” he trails, bowing to rest his forehead against yours. “I want to keep you to myself. Morning breath and all.”

Tingling goosebumps ripple across your body like an electric chill as you slip your hand around the back of his neck and shiver. You're pretty sure you have the biggest, dumbest grin on your face. When did you become so fucking smitten? “It’s yours then."

Allowing your head to drop back against the pillow, you gently encourage him to chase your lips, twirling locks of his hair in your fingers.

"I'm yours," you correct yourself with a whisper, need filling the cracks that uncertainty doesn't cover. "If you want me? Please say you want me still."

He uses the opportunity to slip his arm out from underneath you and uses it to prop himself up. His long fingers curl around your jaw and he tilts your chin up as he moves in closer. He pauses to skim his lips over yours before he speaks those reassuring words. "I want you. And I'll tell you as many times as it takes for it to sink in."

He closes the distance between you before you provide another insecure rebuttal for him to combat. He presses down on your mouth hard with his own but keeps his tongue to himself, simply allowing you to feel the heat of his lips against you. There's that chill again, wracking your body, hardening your nipples, facilitating the transfer of the hot, sticky wetness from your folds to your panties.

It's not enough. The fireworks in your head and the butterflies swirling a storm in your stomach leaves you euphoric and eager to consume more of him. You start to tease your tongue along him and he greedily reciprocates by pushing his tongue past your teeth and into your mouth. You gasp at the intrusion and he moves back, but you're not about to let him go. If he’s hungry then you’re starving.

He has to steady himself when you twist his hair in your fingers and yank down, earning you a guttural growl from the back of his throat that fades into a weak moan. The sound has you clamping your legs together, trying to contain the thin layer of slick coating the crease along your inner thighs right where they meet your underwear. You'll have to peel them off and wring them out if he keeps it up.

"So rough," he chides with a chuckle, almost taunting you back as he slides his fingers around the back of your head,

"Sorry," you mumble, dropping your palms flat against his back.

But you're not, not really. Letting him back off now would be truly devastating. You're already moving back in to drag his bottom lip through your teeth, earning another gravelly growl.

“I know you’re not,” he laughs as his lip snaps back to him, your smile giving you away.

He gives a small tug on the strands of your hair he's started twisting between his fingers. He doesn't know what he expected, but the soft moan that pulls from you isn’t it. The sound travels through him like a tuning fork and sets his nerves alight on a path that goes straight to his dick. Without hesitation he fists his hands deep in your hair, twisting as much as he can in his fingers and squeezes. Your mouth falls open and you gasp out a louder, needier moan against him. He presses his mouth harder against you, tongue claiming the space inside yours as its new home.

Your back arcs up off the mattress, arms curling around his neck as if to hold him in place so he doesn’t disappear like he has in so many of your dreams. The heat of his bare chest bores through the thin fabric of your borrowed shirt, firm pectorals squishing the soft flesh of your breasts. It feels like you’re going to explode if you don’t relieve some of the pressure associated with such salacious desire.

“Namjoon,” you pant in a whisper, rolling your body towards him in a frenzied need that drives the shirt up past your panties.

He groans a deep sound into your mouth, trying not to give in to every last lustful thought telling him to put his hands all over you. He knows it’s a delicate balance, exploring this new territory with you, but it’s so hard to rationalize actions with his dick leading his thoughts. He knows he has to reel it in or he is going to go too fast. When you roll your hips against him a second time, he lets himself get lost in the way your hand glides down his back. Your fingertips barely dip below his waistband before they’re coming back up and making their way across his arm. How is it you can make him want you more with every touch, every pant, every pass his tongue makes against yours? Suddenly both your hands leave his back completely and he’s about ready to start weeping. Fuck. You’re killing me.

You can feel the new bit of exposed skin rubbing against his sheets and you allow your body to relax its deathgrip on your thighs, desperate to feel any other part of him touching you. Just as you’re about to pull the sheet down for him to see what you’ve done, he hooks his leg over yours, wedging it between the previously immovable limbs. Oh fuck. I’m in trouble.

He’s about to expose how ridiculously wet you are and you two are just making out. If he doesn’t realize it, he’s still going to be wearing you all over his sweatpants.

“Wait, I…” Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding hard enough to burst through your chest.

He pauses to prop himself on his hands, towering over you. The knee between your legs sinks into the mattress as it supports the majority of his weight. He’s looking at you through half-lidded eyes, pupils so blown out that you can’t see any of the color surrounding them anymore. “What do you need?”

Don’t say your dick. Don’t say your dick. Don’t say your dick.

You’re frozen, terrified that he’s somehow gained the ability to read your thoughts. He exhales a soft sigh and his expression morphs into raw compassion. “Do you wanna stop? It’s okay. We don’t have to move so fast.”

He says that like anything the two of you have ever done has progressed at a pace faster than paint drying. You manage a conflicted sigh, combing your fingers through your hair. Wow. That’s oily. Becoming aware of your appearance, even in the relatively dark room, leaves you feeling insecure.

“Ah, it’s not that,” you begin, trying to explain without revealing just how embarrassed you are. You place your hands on the knee between your legs, feeling his body stiffen at the sensation. Your wrists are quickly pressed into the slick of your thighs when he shifts his knee forward. Oh fuck. He’s too close.

“What is it? Tell me,” he prods when your fingernails dig into his thigh.

You open your mouth to speak, meaning to use the cop out excuse of having to pee, but fall silent when you realize just how muscular his thigh feels beneath your palm.

“What can I do?” he asks, practically seeing the wheels turning in your head.

You nervously swallow, blinking furiously like you’ve forgotten how normal eyeballs work. “Nothing.”

“Okay, why are you being so weird?” he laughs, reaching down for your hands and pulling the blanket back as he moves. “You’re cutting off my blood flow with those little daggers you call nails. Have you been biting them again?”

Panic sets in when you realize you have nowhere to hide. You pull your hands away from his leg to avoid letting him feel how slick your wrists have become just rubbing against your inner thighs. Your shirt has risen up enough to bare your belly button, showing off the lacey black panties below. His eyes slowly drift down, fully taking in the way you look wearing his shirt before they get stuck on the flesh exposed for his consumption. He swallows hard and finally takes in the mouthwatering sight below. The band of stretchy black mesh bordered by a fine red lace encircles your hips, making you look like a gift presented specifically for him to start unwrapping with his teeth.

“Fuck me,” he mutters to himself in a low breathy tone.

You nervously laugh, feeling like your chest is about to cave in on itself. “I’m too embarrassed to do that.”

With his eyes focused elsewhere his hands reach out to clumsily grasp at yours. He drags his lip through his teeth as he draws the back of your hand to his lips. You freeze, knowing that you’re done for.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says."I know it's not that simple, but try it anyway."

He kisses your knuckles sweetly and starts to slowly work his way across the back of your hand, applying more passion to each kiss he plants on your skin. The closer he gets to your wrist the more tongue he offers, kissing, nibbling, and sucking at the slick partially dried against your flesh there. You’d be mortified if you didn’t find it so fucking hot.

Your chest heaves in silent waves as you watch him. He locks eyes with you, pressing his lips to your arm one final time with a coy grin.

“Is that what you were trying to hide from me?”

"Yes." Your voice is small as you admit defeat. You turn your head into the pillow so you don't have to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry. Can I just... Take a cold shower or something?"

Namjoon laughs. "Why are you apologizing? You really don't have anything to be embarrassed about."

Why are you apologizing? Your ex had ingrained in you that you were some freak of nature, but you've known for years now that he didn't know anything about women. Still, it seems that insecurity stuck with you. You bite your lip, mind wandering back the way Namjoon looked sucking your arm.

"Besides you taste amazing from what I can gather," he murmurs, rolling to lay flat on his back, folding his arms behind his head. "But if you really want to shower, I won't stop you. I don't recommend cold water, ever. I mean if you wanna, knock yourself out. If you go hot though, the ventilation can get kind of bad, so keep the door open a crack. I can try my hand at making breakfast. Don't think I haven't been picking up some skills."

You sit up, eyes traveling helplessly down his torso, roaming over his hardened nipples and raking in the divots along his stomach indicating muscles hidden just below the surface. A thin trail of dark hair below his belly button grows thicker as it disappears below the band of his gray sweatpants. Even in the darkness you can discern the bulge slightly tenting the fabric over his crotch. When you force them back up to meet his gaze, you find yourself distracted by the swell of the triceps framing his face. Have the back of his arms always looked like this? Has he always looked so fucking good?

The lip you've held in your teeth for the last minute or so has begun to pale from the pressure. You don't even realize you're giving him that deer-in-the-headlights stare until he reaches over to poke you in the belly.

"Are you going or what?"

You blink at him a few times. "Huh?"

"Shower. Yes? No? Or you gonna keep looking at me like that and tempting me with that bedhead?"

Your hand instinctively flies up to smooth down your hair, even though you know it's no use. How many times has he caught you staring at his body now? You've lost count, but it's still equally mortifying.

"I'm sorry if I seem like a tease," you mumble, eyes darting away. "I know you're the same person as before I said the words out loud, but my brain has decided it likes you too much and it's making me stupid nervous. I feel like I'm undergoing a critical system update. So like... bear with me while it finishes installing?"

He leans his head back against the pillow, rubbing his forehead with tented fingers. "Wow. Why is it the nerdy talk that gets me every time? How do you make it so sexy?"

A nervous laugh dissolves into a hum within your throat. "Sexy? Hmm. I think you've got the wrong girl."

He looks over at you, cheek flush against the pillow. "Nah, I've got the most perfect one."

"Ha. Well. You know what I got?" You continue nervously laughing as you slip out of bed.

"What?" He grins as you pause in the doorway, fabric of his shirt dangling against your thighs.

“I got youniverse,” you tease in a deep voice with a smirk. Deflection by humor is all you know.

“I was being romantic.” He groans, looking for something to throw at you. “Fine. I’m never doing anything like that again.”

"Please be patient while this update installs!" you call from the bathroom, already closing the door behind you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It's been a few minutes since the shower has been running and Namjoon can't stop thinking about how beautiful you looked beneath him. He stands at the stove with one hand tucked in the pocket of his sweatpants, the other holding a spatula so tightly his knuckles pale. Even the sound of bacon crackling can't distract him from the sight, the smell, the taste of you. He doesn't dare to peek his head around the corner.

He's still hard without imagining the way the water is rolling off your body. He doesn't need to go into the daydream of standing under that shower with you, pressing your tits against the glass and fucking you senseless. He definitely shouldn't be thinking about the water spilling onto your ass, your wet soapy hair knotted in his fist as he uses it to arch your back up towards him, or the sounds you might make as his cock disappears inside that tight little--

"Ah! Fuck!" he hisses.

The grease that splatters across his bare chest pulls him from his reverie. He turns off the burner and crosses the room, grabbing a shirt wedged between the couch cushions. As he turns around he freezes when he sees the bathroom door is wide open. That door doesn't move on its own. You did this, didn’t you? Are you trying to kill me, Geeksquad?

“You okay, Joonie?” you yell, voice echoing off the tile surrounding you.

His eyes are stuck on the blurry flesh tones peeking out from behind the textured glass, silently cursing each divot in its surface for the obfuscation of your form. The door slides open and you crane your neck to poke your head out, briefly swiping your hand over your eyes to clear the water from them. Suddenly your gaze is fixed on him, causing his teeth to clack together when he snaps his jaw shut.

Get it together, pervert, he scolds himself. The last thing he wants to do is screw this up and make you uncomfortable, but holy fuck he could cry at how hard you’ve made him again.

“Fi--ne.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat, walking towards the open door and fixing his gaze on the floor while clutching the shirt in his hand. “You, uh, left the door open. Do you want me to uh… shut it a little more?”

You shake your head, but realize he’s doing his damndest not to look. Saint Namjoon strikes again. Now it’s your turn to clear your throat. “Joonie.”

“Hmm?” His eyes dart to the tiled wall just outside of the shower. Close, but not close enough.

Come on, you plead, hoping he can read your mind. You roam your fingers through your soapy hair, swallowing the anxiety in your throat.

“Joonie, can you… look at me?”

His eyes waste no time racing to your face, taking a brief detour to the rippled glass clouding the details of your body. Feeling braver when his lips lazily drift apart, you slide the shower door open just a bit more to expose the outer curve of your breast.

“I left it open for you. I thought you might want to…” you purse your lips, feeling your chest tingle with uncertainty. This is so new and so hard to navigate, but you want it so badly you could cry. “Watch?”

“Watch...” He blinks slowly, brow furrowing in confusion like you’ve given him some complex equation to solve. “...you shower?”

Oh no. This is dumb. This isn’t hot. What are you doing? Forget it. You don’t know what sexy is, Y/N. Abort. Abort. Abort! Your eyes dance around the room, trying to focus on something else to calm the ringing in your ears, but your mouth keeps going anyway.

“I-I just thought, hey you know what this is a really nice bathroom. And this shower? I mean…” You don’t even pause as you grip the metal to slide the glass door shut, watching his obscured form hover in the doorway. “...look at this glass. So pretty! It’s like. Wow. Talk about craftsmanship. I’m actually surprised it’s still so clean considering how you live, y’know? Anyway I was just like hey, you know what would be a shame? Not letting Namjoon see his own shower. Yup. Just. I think you can really appreciate how it looks from the other side for once. Ha. It’s nice in here too, like from this side, but I think it’s good to see things from a new perspective every once in a while. Heheh, heh. D-Don’t you?”

His mouth splits into a grin and he drags his lips through his teeth, trying not to laugh. “Yeah it’s pretty great to see it like this. But uh… For a second it seemed like you wanted me to appreciate more than just the construction of my shower. Maybe the sexy woman in my shower? I could do that too, if you want.”

Sexy? The hot water nearly scalds your flesh as you turn the heat up, forcing steam to rise up and over the divider between the two of you. There’s that nervous laugh again, spilling out of your lips as you wash the suds from your hair.

“Eh? Oh no, the steam is too much I can’t see you. Namjoonie?” You lick your lips and slide the door to the side just enough to poke your head back out, allowing steam to billow out in puffs around your head. Your fingers stay curled around the opening, ready for the moment you feel brave again. “It’s not too much watching me… warm up?”

He wants to say it’s not enough, but he’ll gladly take what you give until you’re comfortable. He cocks his head to the side, dragging his lower lip through his teeth.

“I could watch you warm up all day. Though, I may suggest some other ways to do it so we’re not breaking my bank account with the water bill.”

Offering a shy grin you push the glass aside to reveal a sliver of your body for his thirsty eyes. Your palm glides up your body to cup the breast you’ve partially exposed. You angle your thigh towards the wall to show the water cascading down your skin. “Can you see me? Do you-Do you wanna get closer?”

It’s no use telling himself not to be so eager. He’s wished for this for such a long time that he can’t help the automatic steps he’s already walking across the vinyl flooring. He licks his lips and leans against the granite counter, preemptively brushing his fingers over the shape bulging in his sweatpants. “Is it okay if I do this?”

A longing sigh morphs into a strangled moan as it attempts to leave your throat. “Yes, please.”

At your sound those gentle strokes of his fingers turn into a palm roughly squeezing and tugging himself over the fabric.

Oh. Fuck. Me. That’s his dick. Your brain threatens to short-circuit at the sight of him palming himself over his pants. You can’t accept that the long shape beneath is actual size or you’ll fucking die. It has to be a trick of lighting, the bunched up gray material, or even your own mind. He doesn’t get to be attractive, smart, funny, and have a big dick. It’s in the laws of the universe. You refuse to believe it.

Even in your crisis your body responds to the sight of him. Shirtless, back slightly rounded as he uses the counter behind him for support, long fingers cupped around the shape of his cock, touching himself over his gray sweatpants like they’re not even there, and just watching you stand there like a statue with your breast hidden behind your hand. Taking a deep breath to gather your courage, you bump the metal frame on the slider with your elbow as you reach down between your legs. Smoky tendrils of water vapor reach out to draw Namjoon’s attention to the motion of you rubbing your swollen clit.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

His lips part in longing and his eyes roll back in his head for a fraction of a second. Your thumb works its way around your nipple as you massage the supple flesh in a circular motion, revealing a hardened peak in short bursts.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, chest heaving as he plants a palm on the counter behind him and leans back on it as his other dives below the band at his waist.

If the vision of him palming his cock above the surface of his pants wasn’t driving you crazy enough, the sight of him pumping his cock below them sure fucking takes it to another level. The shower drowns out the sound of his fist frantically working himself from tip to base, but you’ve watched enough porn to be able to imagine it. You scan him up and down. His furrowed brow, half-lidded eyes, and open mouth have you leaning back against the wall for support, but it’s the fervent motion of his arm stretching his sweatpants that has your legs quaking beneath you.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, needing to pull the orgasm out before you collapse. Why did you think doing this in the shower was a great idea? Trying to focus on your orgasm while keeping yourself upright is torture. So close. So fucking close.

Your body is shaking as the water hits your torso, hand roaming your body for something more to help release the tension. Namjoon’s eyes are fixed on your chest, watching the water assail the flesh surrounding your nipple.

“That’s it, baby. You got it.”

He would scold himself for using a term of endearment he’s never used with you outside of his own fantasies, but you’re so fucked out he’s hoping you won’t call him out. The words of encouragement edge you towards release. You exhale a loud breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Fuck, Namjoon. I can’t...”

His eyebrows seem permanently knotted together, as though begging you for his own release. He can’t even think straight anymore. “Do it for me, baby. Please.”

The sound of his pleading has you on the brink of letting go. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling that surge coming. It’s going to hit you hard; you can tell. You straighten your legs, whole body tensing up.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joonie. Joonie. Joonie. J--”

Your foot slips.

The cause of your pained cry is multifaceted. First of all, the universe is a dick and loves to remind you that everything you do is forever shrouded in embarrassment and shame. Secondly, that orgasm was going to undoubtedly be the best in your fucking life and it was stolen from you by that fall. Thirdly, your hip feels like it’s been dipped in lava and no amount of biting your lip can help you play things cool.

Namjoon is hovering over you in an instant, shower spraying his back. “Are you okay?!’

Embarrassment floods your features as tears trickle down your cheeks. You want to nod in reassurance but you can’t help but shake it no. His hands cup the back of your head, forcing you to look into eyes that are too concerned to think straight.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No,” you manage to choke out between strained breaths. “Just my hip. Gimme a minute.”

You wail out a long sound, mostly just to vent your frustration at the situation. It makes him feel guilty even though he knows it’s not his fault. You sit up with a wince, but quickly burst into laughter when you notice he’s couched down in waterlogged sweatpants.

“Na-Namjoon, turn off the water,” you say, trying to hold back the giggles as you point up. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

He raises his eyebrows and blinks at you and then he looks down at himself. His mind was so preoccupied…

“Ah! Shit.” He reaches up to turn the knob and the water stops pouring through the head, though his sweatpants have already absorbed a massive amount. At least it made you feel better.

“Towel please,” you say, clutching your knees to your chest to try and cover your body.

He shakes his stupor off and leans out to grab the fluffy white towel hanging nearby. “You know, you can’t blame me for not thinking straight,” he grumbles, handing it over. “We were... having a moment.”

“I know,” you admit with a smirk, wrapping it around you. “I was enjoying it. Too much obviously.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He helps you into his bed and encourages you to lay back against the pillows, despite your protests that your hair is soaking wet and will dry before that pillow ever does.

“It’s fine. Relax,” he says rummaging through a drawer nearby. He disappears for a moment, the wet squelching beneath his feet indicating he’s going back into the bathroom, but you can still hear him. “You should probably rest your side.”

When he returns he’s sporting a pair of black oversized basketball shorts and he’s got both hands stuffed in his pockets. His golden brown skin seems to glow under the soft LED candles, shadows carved into muscles you never realized he possessed. The mattress sinks when he sits down on the edge of the bed beside you and you gulp.

“I’m fine. I’m just a clutz.”

“That makes two of us.” He smiles, eyeing the place where the two ends of the towel meet at your thigh.

“Can I look?” he asks without a second thought.

Your face burns with the flames of embarrassment. “Wh-What?”

His eyes widen as they snap to your face. “Uhhh, your injury! I definitely wasn’t asking to see your clit again. I mean, not that I wouldn’t love to see it again. I would. I just, uh…” He coughs and runs a hand through his hair. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You grin like a smitten fool, glad to not be the only one struggling with composure. The sound of the rain pelting the window nearby has become comfortable padding for the moments of silence you’re unsure how to fill. Slowly, you reach down to pull the towel aside just enough to reveal the red welt at your hip.

He grits his teeth and cringes. “Ouch.”

“It really doesn’t hurt that bad now,” you try to reason.

“Yeah, that’s bullshit.”

“No, really, it’s just a little…” you feel along the reddened patch of skin and flinch when your fingers make contact, allowing a little hiss to pass through your teeth. “...tender.”

“Hmm.” He looks at it closely, trying to figure out if there’s anything he can do. “Ah. Hold tight.”

He leaves and returns with an ice pack, gently pressing the cloth into your side to offer relief.

“That’s better, thank you,” you say, overlaying your hand on his and holding the pack in place. “But there is one more thing you can do, if you want.”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss it better?”

“I don’t think it works like that,” he says with a smirk, already pressing his lips to the skin outside of the ice pack.

Your eyes close and you roll your head back into the soft pillows. The sensation of his lips skimming the outside of your hip is driving you crazy, but he never lifts the pack. Instead he skirts around it and begins kissing down the outside of your thigh.

“Hold this in place, okay?”

His hand slips out from beneath yours and you look up just in time to catch him running the flat of his tongue in a line to your knee. As his dark eyes check in with you, he bends your knee enough to dip his head beneath it and press his lips to this side. Your calf rests on his shoulder as he begins to suck on the tender flesh at your inner thigh. He lightly nips at the skin and pauses, seeking your approval.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes, please, yes.”

He smiles, sucking your skin between his teeth and basking in the delighted sigh that passes your lips in response. You wiggle your hips as he works his way up, anticipating those big soft lips finally pressing where you want them the most. He climbs onto the bed on his elbows, positioning himself between your legs to get more comfortable. He pauses to admire the string of marks he’s left behind.

He grins when you hook your other leg around his shoulder and buck your hips towards him with need. “What, impatient already?”

“I was so fucking close, Joon,” you whine.

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll get there. Chill,” he laughs, turning his face back to your thigh and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses into it.

Despite this being everything he wants, he’s worried if he goes too fast, he won’t be able to enjoy it. He wants to take his time with you. You moan as he sucks another bruise into the soft flesh, inches away from your dripping cunt. He can practically taste that sweet tang on his mouth as he breathes in. To think you were embarrassed about this earlier… Ridiculous. Feeling the heat of your sex so close, he pauses to rest his cheek on the inside of your thigh and swipes his tongue out a few times to tease your labia.

You ball the edge of the towel in your fist and swipe the material away from your body. It’s useless to you now anyway. “Fuck. Namjoon. Please. Just do it already.”

“Do what?” He plays dumb as he smirks, lapping at your outer folds with the tip of his tongue.

You turn your head to the side and whimper against the pillow. The words are both breathless and desperate as they come out. “Please, eat this fucking pussy.”

So much for taking his time. He wraps his arms around your legs and drags you down just a bit meet his hungry mouth, groaning into your clit as he presses the flat of his tongue against it. Heaven. You taste like fucking heaven. He’ll eat you out every day for the rest of his life if you let him.

“Oh, god, yes,” you cry out, forgetting about the ice pack you’re clutching at your waist.

Both of your hands shoot down to tangle in his hair and he has to stop himself from grinding his hips down into the mattress as you tug. While he doesn’t want to cum in his pants, he allows himself to steal a glance up at the way your breasts have pushed together with your arms like this. Another breathy groan sends vibrations rippling from your clit up to your belly and it earns another weak moan from you in return.

“Fuck,” you whisper, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of the man eating you out better than anyone ever has.

You squeeze at your breasts, trying to keep yourself from pushing his head against you even harder. Just when you think he can’t be any more sinful, you feel the first finger glide into your pussy. You tense and take a loud inhale. Holy shit.

When you don’t make the pornstar noise he expects, his ego deflates a tiny bit. He lifts his head to look at your fucked out expression, noting the almost pained way your eyebrows come together and your eyes snap shut, rolling your head to one side.

“Nonononono, don’t stop, please.”

Based on that reaction, he already knows the answer and he feels foolish for asking. “Are you enjoying it?”

It’s not that he’s insecure. At all. You’re just not making the sounds other girls have made once he’s gotten them here. Okay, maybe he’s a teeny bit insecure. He continues to pump his finger into you, feeling the tightness in your walls clamp down on him. It’s hard not to imagine what that might feel like surrounding his throbbing cock. There’s the subtle chase of your hips coming down to meet his palm every time he thrusts his finger up into you. Watching it disappear inside you makes his eyes roll back.

“Joon, do you think I’d be this wet if I wasn’t enjoying it? Please. Keep going.”

He wets his lips, tasting you on them again before sucking back down on your clit. When he realizes how effortlessly his finger is gliding inside you he decides to add another, smiling when he feels your pussy clench and adjust to the newest intrusion.

“Na-Namjoon!” you cry out, throwing your head back.

“Mmm?” he hums innocently against you, flicking his tongue against that sensitive bundle of nerves.

Each pass he makes in tandem with his fingers causes that tingling heat in your belly to grow.

Your legs are shaking but your clit is starting to go numb, and a nervousness swells inside of you, blocking out all sensations of pleasure. You told him you’re a mess. You warned him. There’s so much you wish you could change about your brain. But the anxiety over letting go, of not being able to soothe the ache of another person’s shattered confidence ensures you won’t be able to reach that finish line without some miracle. It feels incredible at certain moments, but every time start to let yourself give in, your body tenses, reminding yourself there’s so much riding on making him feel good by reaching that climax.

If he’s anything like the guys you’ve been with in the past, he’ll focus on it. He’s not though, is he? Now you’re focusing on it. Now you definitely can’t cum. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. Could you just fake it? Would he know?

You’re unaware of the worry plastered on your face and as he looks up to read your expression, it tips him off. Ego only slightly battered, he removes his fingers from your pussy and licks them clean before climbing up the mattress beside you. Thankful for his ability to read your body language, you grab the towel and cling to it, clamping your legs shut and turning to face him.

“You’re anxious,” he says plainly, though you can’t help but take it as an accusation.

“You’re hot,” you fire back with a nervous laugh.

“And you look like a goddess right now, but that’s besides my point. Talk to me, Y/N. What’s wrong? Did I do something you didn’t like? You can tell me.”

You feel so fucking guilty. He’s too good for you.

“Look, you know I have trouble letting things go. Pleasure is… no different. I start to and then—”

“You panic?”

You nod and hug the towel close to your chin. “The last person I was with put a lot of stress on making me… you know, finish. And it was always, always my fault when I couldn’t. There was so much pressure over it that I forgot how to relax with another person. I couldn’t because I was thinking about how mad they’d be if I couldn't.”

“You know you don’t have to worry about that with me,” he says, pressing you towards his chest in a hug. “All I care about is whether or not you’re having a good time. I only stopped because I could tell you weren’t.”

“I just...I forgot how to let go. It’s been a long time since that person and still. I can’t do it unless I’m the one with my fingers…” You clear your throat, feeling embarrassed at having to have this conversation. “I know you’re not like them, but it’s hard. I feel like I failed you already.”

“Okay, one? Too much pressure on yourself. This is a partnership so let me take some responsibility. Which feeds into point two. It’s been…” He sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck as he counts the years. “A while for me too. You know, my skills could probably use some work. We should probably practice if we want to get better at making each other feel good.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, about that. Are you gonna stick your dick in me or what? I want to make you feel good too.”

His cock twitches in his pants and he presses his lips together. “Okay, for real? We were having a real, deep, thoughtful conversation about overcoming obstacles together and you just want me balls deep.” He can’t help but crack a smile. “I see how it is.”

You wave your hand in the air dismissively. “No, no. If you wanna plan it out in excruciating detail how you’re gonna make me cum all over your fingers and your tongue, be my guest. I just figured it was time I offered something other than my tech services. But, whatever, man.”

He swallows hard, deciding to play into the game a little more. “Great. We’re on the same page then. First of all that’s your humor defense mechanism and I will not be tricked into believing you’re just gonna--Ah...”

His words break off into a moan when you nip at the brown, pebbled nipple practically calling your name.

He groans. “Playing dirty?”

“Well, I am a dirty girl, right?” you ask, playfully planting a string of hot, wet kisses across the firm muscles on his chest.

“Hobi’s nickname for you is that accurate huh? Think he’ll abandon it now that you’re mine?”

“Oh, I’m yours, huh?” you tease, kissing lines down his stomach.

“Those love bites on your thighs say you are,” he says with an amused grin as you sit up straight.

“That’s just one thigh. The rest of me is fair game, don’t you think?” You giggle when that smile turns into a frown and you move to tease the band of his shorts down.

His hands grip the back of your neck and he pulls you down into a kiss. “I’ll just have to leave my name all over you then, hmm?” he whispers in a low, breathy tone that makes your pussy clench. “Is that what you want?”

He pulls on your hair, forcing you to expose your neck to him. He latches on, sucking and laving his tongue across it. You moan, reaching down for his waistband once again, fumbling to get it down past the erection sticking straight up. He helps wiggle them past his butt and kicks them down his leg, making sure he has freedom of movement he needs. You gape at the sight of the dark, veiny cock standing at attention as he sucks another bruise into the crook of your neck. You gasp in a hungry breath, trying to keep your mouth from watering at the sight of precum beading atop its dusty pink head. You’ve never wanted to ride someone’s dick so hard in your life. You move to straddle his waist, allowing him to dive down your collarbone and suck at the soft tissue leading down towards your nipple.

He grins against your breast, trying to subdue the tremble of his fingers as they settle on your hips.

“Ah!” you wince, realizing that welt from your fall is still pretty tender as his fingers ghost over them.

“Sorry,” he murmurs against your nipple, teasing it with his tongue before sucking it in his mouth.

“It’s fine. Is it okay if I…” you position yourself over his dick and let it rest flat against his stomach. You slowly settle yourself on top and rock yourself back and forth, grinding your soaking clit perfectly on the head of his cock.

“Use me,” he grunts, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you down so he can get his mouth back on your nipple. “Please.”

There’s a dull pain in your side as his arms graze that spot and the way you’re grinding against him certainly doesn’t help, but you’re so fucked out and needy you’re pretty sure you could walk through fire for this man. It feels like his cock was made for sliding against your folds like this.

Your panting only grows more frantic as he switches his attention to your other breast. He nibbles at the neglected nipple and digs his fingers into the small of your back to keep from shaking as you roll your body against him.

“You feel so good Joonie,” you whine, fingernails digging into his chest.

He flinches at the daggers leaving crescent impressions over his heart and forces air through his teeth. If you keep this up, he’s going to be making a big mess all up his chest.

“Condoms. I have condoms,” he mumbles.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper. “We don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”

“I don’t wanna mess this up,” he whispers, pulling you down into a kiss as your clit continues to grind against his girthy length. You can feel his abs tense as his tip kisses your opening. “Ask me again when I’m not already so fucking close to putting it in. I can’t think straight.”

“That means we should. Where are they?” You whimper as his fingers reach down to rub tiny, gentle circles against your clit and he points to the nightstand beside the bed.

He sucks air through his teeth as your pussy spasms in response to his fingers touching you. You lean forward to reach for the drawer and he sucks your tit in his mouth, working his mouth over the flesh and letting his tongue leave trails all over your chest as you move forward.

“Joonie, you’re making it really hard to concentrate,” you chide, reaching in the drawer and pulling out the little box thankfully sitting on top of whatever other oddities he keeps inside that drawer. “How old are these?”

You flip the tiny box over in your hands, trying to read the packaging while he kisses your neck. Fuck, why is the type so small?

“Mmm bought em a few weeks ago,” he hums into your neck. “After the whole sleeping in your bed thing. Just in case.”

“3-pack, huh? Think you’d get that lucky?” you tease, ripping open the box. “You didn’t even open it yet. What if I asked you to fuck me when we were out?”

“You wouldn’t. You’re too shy.” He laughs, yoinking the condoms from your hand.

You puff your cheeks out at him. “But like… I could have though.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” he reminds you, eagerly tearing the foil in half. “Firewall.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You right.” You roll off him to give him space, chewing on a nail as you admire his form.

He breathes a soft sound through his teeth, trying to calm the nerves racing through his chest. You see the way his fingers tremble as they struggle to roll the latex down his shaft so you place your hands on top of his and help him. Yours aren’t much better in terms of stability, but you want him to know you’ll be nervous going into this together.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry with me either.”

A jagged breath escapes him as he leans into you. “I know.”

He breathes out trepidation before moving in to claim your lips with his own. The weight of his body presses you down into the mattress as he gently wedges himself between your legs. You can feel his tip poking at your entrance and you can’t help but wiggle your hips, hoping he’ll guide himself inside soon. You want to feel that delicious stretch with Namjoon filling you to the hilt and holding you close.

His hips are still as he dives his tongue in your mouth, cock offering only the slightest twitch at the way he can feel your walls pulsing, threatening to pull him in at any second. There’s no way he’s going to last if he goes in now. He just needs a second to compose himself. Maybe a few. Maybe a minute? His fingers trail shaky lines over your jaw, trying to distract you with the passion in his kiss.

“Are you okay?” you ask, breaking the kiss and watching his eyes carefully. “We don’t have to do this if you’re having second thoughts. If you’re not in, then neither am I. We can go watch a movie instead.”

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head with a dramatic sigh, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “You feel too good.”

“But you haven’t even… I mean, not really—”

“This feels too good,” he corrects himself, running a palm up and down your arm. “Being with you.”

“How is that a problem?” you ask, confusion marring your features as you run your fingers through his hair. “I feel like I’m floating, like I wanna keep chasing this high because I never wanna come down off of you. I want to feel even closer. ”

He exhales a long breath. How does he phrase this? “Uh, it’s a problem because I’m too excited. I want this to last and—”

“Oh you’re worried about cumming too soon?”

He swallows his embarrassment, saying nothing as he kisses at your collarbone.

“Don’t be. I don’t care how long you last. I just want to make you feel good. We’ll go for as long as you last and we have two more condoms for later, hmm? We can always get more if you’re feeling wild. My treat.”

“Sugar momma?” He looks up at you with adoration, your grin spreading to his lips as he presses them against you.

“Ew.” You laugh against him. “Me and my five dollars are going home, sorry. I’m out now.”

“Don’t play, come on.” He laughs softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper, pulling him into a deep kiss.

That’s when you feel his tip teasing your hole, slowly entering like he’s afraid he’s going to break you. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders as he sinks in, sighing in ecstasy against his lips. Your pussy squeezes him tight, already threatening to milk him dry before he’s even bottomed out inside you. Your walls pulse around him and you moan his name softly in his ear. Oh.Shit. Shit Shit.

He panics, sinking the rest of the way down as though burying himself inside you can hide the orgasm cresting too fast to stop. You cry out, clamping your arms around his back at the sudden stretch.

“Oh fuck, baby.” His breathing stutters and he pulls maybe halfway out before he slams his hips back into you, balls tapping against your ass. “Shit. I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m cumming.”

“Joonie, I love you. It’s okay. I love you,” you whisper between passionate kisses.

His dick twitches inside you as he grunts, letting your tight pussy squeeze the cum out of him until he’s pretty sure he’s spilled everything he has into the condom. He’s breathing heavy, peppering your jaw with soft kisses. He’s growing soft inside you and it’s so fucking sensitive to subject himself to staying, but fuck, he doesn’t want to leave the comfort of your warm cunt.

With a defeated sigh, he ties the condom in a knot and tosses it in the trash before laying down beside you. “I swear I’m not a failure at everything.”

“You’re not a failure at anything. Come here, Joonie.” You gesture towards yourself, smushing your tits together for him as though he needed more incentive to climb on your chest.

He grunts but obliges, resting his head on your breasts and allowing you to comb your fingers through his hair. You place a chaste kiss on the top of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He turns his head into your skin and gives you a wet kiss right outside your nipple. When you shudder he grins.

“This was just… practice. I learned a lot already,” you shyly comfort him. “Like. Wow. Vaginas are amazing. I can really take that much dick. Crazy.” You pause to watch him smile. “Ha, knew I could get you to laugh. Don’t worry. I have a feeling we’ll do even better next round.”

“You want another round after that?”

“Mmm-hmm. Very much,” you giggle and lean in, voice low. “Now that I know how sexy you sound when you cum, how am I supposed to resist you? What, I’m just supposed to forget and let that memory go? Uh-uh.”

He looks down at his flaccid dick and sighs. “I need time to recharge.”

“That’s fine. I mean, you’ll give me some time to get worked up again too. Didn’t you mention breakfast? Weren’t you gonna show me your mad cooking skills?” you tease, poking his sweaty side with a finger.

He jumps up, not remembering if he turned the burner off or not. “Oh shit. The bacon!”

You start cackling as the image of Namjoon running out of the room stark naked sears itself into your brain for eternity. You reach over for your phone, debating texting Jennie about everything. You quickly decide you want to keep this to yourself for at least the rest of the afternoon. Tonight is Saturday, after all and it’s bound to come out once everyone is together.

Despite being on his very best behavior, his clumsiness was made apparent when he tripped over his two left feet and sent your birthday cake flying through the air, candles and all. When he saw the look on your face, he was pleasantly surprised that you burst into giggles instead of breaking down in tears like he thought you would.

“Y/N, don’t do that,” yelled your mother. You had scooped up a handful of birthday cake and began throwing it at the poor boy who found himself running away from you as his own laughter echoed throughout the park.

Soon enough the other girls at your party began to chase the lone prince with chunks of cake and frosting falling from their sticky hands. You paid no mind to your dirtied princess costume as you laughed and played until the sun set below the horizon.

The craziest birthday Namjoon celebrated with you was your thirteenth. Several new boys had moved to town and you were quick to befriend them as well. Your party that year was held at an indoor facility with everything ranging from laser tag to go-karts.

“I’ve been hit,” Taehyung, one of the younger boys, yelled as he took a hit for you. “I-I can’t…go on. Avenge…me,” he gasped in feigned agony as he fell to his knees in front of you.

Namjoon, on the other team, shoots poor Taehyung one more time for good measure before giving you a dimpled grin and running off to find his next victim. Something about his smile made your stomach do flip flops and your heart beat a little faster.

Later that evening, after all of your energy is gone and your other friends have gone home, Namjoon and you return to your house. The two of you go up to your bedroom and lie in bed together as you look up at the ceiling. He smells like fresh laundry and books.

You talk late into the night about things that only the moon knows now, his light filtering in through an open window.

The sweetest birthday you celebrated with the boy was, ironically, your sixteenth. You had more friends now, and you were more mature now. The themed parties you had as a child were a thing of the past. Nowadays people’s birthdays consisted of fancy dinners and party buses, and they cost a pretty penny.

Namjoon helped you save up for the party, taking on an after school job to help pay for the expenses. Your job paid, but it didn’t pay well. The two of you combined saved enough for a Paris-themed party. From mini macarons to cupcakes with fleur-de-lis on them, it had sweets to last for days.

The party was great, and it was wonderful to spend time with your friends, but your favorite part of the night was undoubtedly when you and Namjoon were walking home from the restaurant.

There was a chill in the air that had you rubbing your hands up and down your arms.

“Here.” The boy shrugged off his jacket before handing it to you.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” A dimple framed smile graced his face and filled you with a sense of comfort. Namjoon had the funny ability to make you feel at ease no matter the situation.

That night as you walked up to your front door, the two of you lingered there. You aren’t sure how long you stood there, time seeming to bleed into itself.

All you remember of that moment is his lips on your own. They were slightly chapped but still soft, the fresh smell of citrus and the smell of old books floods your senses, your body hyper-aware of how close he is to you.

Your favorite birthday with Namjoon though, is this one.

He wakes you up that morning with the smell of pancakes coming from the kitchen and you’re immediately on alert. With his past attempts at cooking on your mind, you rush out of your shared bedroom and make a beeline for the kitchen.

When you nearly trip over your own two feet into the kitchen, you’re relieved when you see that Jin is in there with him. Namjoon smiles sheepishly as he realizes what you thought and apologizes.

“What’s all this?” You gesture to the meal laid out in front of you.

“Happy birthday!” The two of them yell in unison.

“Happy birthday Y/N,” your boyfriend continues. “I was going to make you breakfast in bed but then I realized that that might not be the best idea.” Hie rubs his hand over the back of his neck sheepishly.

You laugh at his explanation, the sound putting a smile on Namjoon’s face.

“I have plans for later too so I’m going to pick you up from work. If that’s okay,” he’s quick to add the last bit.

He says goodbye to you and gives you a kiss on the forehead as you leave for work that morning and it seems like the day goes on forever, no end in sight. When four o’clock finally does roll around, you’re anxious to see what the man has planned.

Namjoon is waiting for you outside when you walk out of the office, a bouquet of flowers in his hand as he smiles at you, all of your anxiety wash away. “I hope you don’t mind that we’re taking the bus,” he laughs.”

“This is why you should get your license.” You playfully punch his shoulder as you accept the flowers from his outstretched hand.

He ignores your playful jab and takes your hand, walking towards the bus stop. There’s a number of buses he takes you on, each one leading your further and further away from the city before you arrive at a small park.

When you get off of the bus, all of a sudden there’s something blocking your eyes. The soft fabric brushes against the tip of your nose causing you to giggle. “Kinky.”

Namjoon ignores your comment and begins to slowly guide you. Towards what, you aren’t sure.

Your heels sink into the soft grass causing your to trip a little as you walk before you decide that you’ll just take them off. The feeling of the grass between your toes and the soil beneath your feet brings you back to simpler times. Back when all you would do was run through the park with him. Before life caught up to you and you were told you needed to grow up.

Your boyfriend finally stops after a few minutes and removes the blindfold.

After your eyes adjust to the light, the sight before you nearly takes your breath away. In front of you is a small table with plates and food laid out, candles flickering in the waning sunlight.

“Happy birthday. Again.”

“What is all this?”

“You’ve been really busy lately,” he says. “I thought that maybe you could use some time to destress and, with your birthday coming up, I figured why not?”

You turn around and kiss him tenderly. “Thank you.”

Dinner goes by peacefully as the two of you make small talk, talking about your days and what you’ve been up to. Your conversation bleeds long into the night. The candles are burning low and the food has long been eaten.

Namjoon and you begin to pack up the stuff so that you can go home for the night, conscious of the bus schedule. He tells you to go on ahead and that he’ll catch up shortly, but when you walk ahead several paces and don’t hear his steps behind you, you turn around in confusion and, for the third time that day, your breath is taken away.

You don't even work with chemicals. Maybe if you did, they would have been more understanding, but you don't and instead, everyone was completely flabbergasted that the two of you very nearly destroyed the building because you tried to reheat your leftover Chinese food - and really, how perfect is it that he also prefers the place across town instead of on the corner, and that he eats all the vegetables you pick out of your rice while you eat the eggrolls he isn't a fan of - in the microwave at the same time. Sure, your IQ is close to 300 when combined, but also, how are you supposed to remember that the bottom part of the takeout is made of foil? You were trying to single out a gene sequence that might help cancer research. Microwaves were not important. 

Until it exploded a little and set the fire suppression systems off in all the labs and affected several billion dollars worth of research. 

Honestly, the two of you are lucky you still have your jobs.

Less lucky that the insurance company wouldn't pay for the entire cost so both you and Namjoon had to take pretty severe pay cuts to help cover the costs.

Even less lucky that it means you could no longer afford your apartment by yourself and subsequently had to try to find a roommate in less than a week, which the internet is not helpful for, it doesn't matter what your coworkers say.

Which really just highlights that it's your own fault that you're in this situation in the first place, you think as you slam back another shot. It's been months, and yes, you found a roommate, and yes , things between the two of you are working better than you could have imagined, but god , at what cost?

You catch a glimpse of dimples heading your way and down the rest of the Kamikaze that you've been nursing all night. You might regret that later, the alcohol might make you do something you'd never do otherwise, but you can always pretend you don't remember. Besides, it's so much harder to handle Namjoon while you're completely sober; you never quite know what to say or what to do.

He doesn't bother to sit in the empty stool beside you, just slides into the space between you and it and lets one arm rest casually on the back of your barstool as he leans in to be heard over the live band that's playing. You don't look at him, you don't trust yourself to look at him, not with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons undone. You know he looks deliciously rumpled. You're entirely too familiar with the sight.

"Are you ready to go?" He asks. You shrug even as you start pulling your coat on, doing your best to ignore the way the heat of his breath brushed over your neck in the way that always gets you hot and bothered. "We don't have to if you don't want to," He says quickly, but you wave him off.

"No, it's fine, I promise. I'm not enjoying the band as much as I thought I would anyway."

When the ride you summoned stops at your apartment building, Namjoon pays and follows you up. The alcohol has started seeping into your bloodstream, and for a moment you regret that last drink. You're not drunk, not really, but you're on the farther side of tipsy and thoughts are swirling in your head that you wish would go somewhere else. Plus you're really fucking hungry now, and also kinda tired, and you're really glad tomorrow's Saturday so you can sleep in.

"What's got you in your head?" Namjoon asks as you fumble to unlock the door. You just shrug noncommittally, unwilling to tell him about it. He doesn't pry either, just sets to work pulling leftover tacos out of the fridge and sticking them in the microwave, remembering at the last second to take the plastic off the top so your food doesn't get coated in melted saran wrap. The two of you eat in relative silence before you manage to make yourself go into your room and strip out of your work clothes and then slide under the covers.

You don't listen as he goes into the room across the hall, you don't listen as the shower starts up, you don't listen at the off-key singing that he does. You don't. You can't let yourself, because then your drunk ass won't be able to keep your mouth shut the next time you see him - as you're both eating breakfast tomorrow, probably - and you'll say some super embarrassing shit like "hey I know it's partially my fault you couldn't afford your rent and you know I'm really grateful that you moved in with me, but you're also like hot as the surface of the sun and your dimples are really cute too, please fuck me stupid, I'm literally begging you."

Because that's the issue with living and working with Namjoon. There is no escape. Before you could come home and masturbate in peace while thinking about how his chest looks so utterly perfect in those button-ups, and how the muscles in his forearm flex when he's got his sleeves rolled up, and how his jaw does that muscle clench thing whenever he's focused on something.

But no. Now he lives with you , and not only are you both on the same schedules and therefore he’s never not home when you are, therefore depriving you of your precious Alone Time, but! You get a front-row view to how he looks in the mornings, with his hair all messy, and how he always forgets that the flavor packet goes in the ramen after you cook it, and how he bundles up every time he goes on walks with Moni, and-

The door to the bathroom creaks open and you force your eyes not to close. You inspect the stuccoed ceiling the entire time it takes his footsteps to make it into his room because otherwise, you're just going to remember that first week after he moved in, when he would have to go to his room with just a towel around his waist because his clothes were in boxes and he hadn't unpacked and he'd forgotten to take anything in the bathroom with him.

The memory of his absolutely fucking ridiculous pectorals dripping with water and his god damn superb biceps flexed and delicious-looking, none of it hidden under the slightly-too-big shirts he wears to work...it haunts you. To this day.

The sound of his door closing echoes through the hall and into your room. It’s through an incredibly impressive force of will that you don’t imagine what he’s doing right now, just across the hall. You resolutely do not imagine him sliding that towel from around his waist and revealing the gorgeous glistening golden thighs that strain against his work khakis so wonderfully. Nor do you think of the way he twists his neck to pop it while he does his after-shower stretches - because that’s a normal thing that normal people totally do - and you absolutely are not thinking of the way the scent of sandalwood and steam trails after him when he’s freshly showered and you are definitively not thinking about-

A loud, high-pitched moan followed by the slapping of skin on skin echoes through the apartment, jolting you upright and out of your thoughts as you stare in shock at the back of your bedroom door. 

Something thuds against the carpeted floor of Namjoon’s room and the sound abruptly cuts off. The silence that follows is deafening, and your ears ring with it. 

Surely….surely he wasn’t….

A thought, unbidden and cursed, flits through your mind before you can stop it. You can’t even blame the residual alcohol in your body for the way you stand and open your bedroom door, or how you slip your super soft silk robe over your shoulders and tie it loosely around your waist, nor for the way you take the two steps to stand in front of Namjoon’s, but you absolutely blame your quickly-returning sobriety for the way you hesitate in front of it. 

He’s going to say no, anyway, so what’s the harm? Things are awkward for a day or two and then we move on, right?

You knock before you can talk yourself out of it. It takes a few minutes, but Namjoon does eventually open the door. His chest is still bare but he’s got on the soft-looking plaid pajama pants that you adore, albeit they are on backwards , and his face is flushed with color. 

You're 98% sure that it's because he just had his hand around his cock. You're significantly less sure if you hate or love the fact that you know that. 

“Hey,” You say awkwardly. 

“Hey,” He responds, just as awkward. 

You both stand there for a second while you work up the courage to ask what’s been going around and around in your mind. 

“I just heard that thud and got worried,” is what eventually makes it out. Namjoon’s face flushes further, and his nose scrunches in the cutest way. “Just...wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know. Dead. Haha.”

He smiles at your laugh, even though it’s dead and humorless, and warmth blooms in your chest. 

“I’m alright. Sorry for any, uh…” He squints, clearly searching for the word he wants to use that won’t immediately give him away - like the entire apartment building hadn’t heard that noise. “Disturbances.”

“Oh, no, you’re fine!” You tell him, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was just. Uh. Y’know how bonobos will often have recreational sex with non-monogamous partners just because they’re bored or as a way to work out the tension between members of the unit-groups and they enjoy said recreational sex, even though there’s no real emotional attachment to the other parties involved?”

Namjoon stares at you for a long, silent moment. 

“Yeah, I know about bonobos,” He eventually says. “I didn’t know that about bonobos, but I guess that’s the fun fact quota for the day.”

Your face heats and you’ve never quite wished the ground would swallow you up until this very moment. 

“Oh,” You say, dumbly. “Well. That’s a thing. That bonobos do.”

“I got that,” Namjoon says. He bites down on his lower lip in what’s probably an innocuous way to not smile at how ridiculous you’re being, but when paired with the golden expanse of chest, it’s utterly obscene. 

“Would you like to have recreational sex with me?” 

“ What? ”

“No strings attached, no feelings, nothing but some nice fun recreational intercourse between two consenting adults of sound mind. Would you be interested?”

“I...why are you asking me? ” He asks incredulously, and you resist the urge to kiss the surprise off his face. How is it surprising at all when he walks around looking like that ?

“Because in the time we’ve known each other as coworkers, roommates, and friends, I think we could be very sexually compatible and even if we aren’t, I’m confident enough in our friendship to believe we could still be friends afterward.” You tell him firmly. “Besides, you’re literally the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, why wouldn’t I want to have sex with you?”

“You’re...serious about this? You’re not playing some kind of joke on me?” 

“Why would I play a joke on you, Namjoon? I haven’t been able to get off for literal weeks - ever since you moved in, actually - and I’m at a bit of a breaking point.”

“And you’re not drunk?”

“Completely sober,” You assure him. He curses under his breath and runs a hand over his jaw, not making eye contact as he considers. It’s the same thoughtful expression that he gets when he’s trying to figure out some complex equation at work. With how long it’s been since you last came, however, it’s only making you wetter. 

"Fuck it," He mutters, seconds before his hands cup your jaw to pull you into a kiss. 

It's awkward at first, the two of you trying to find a rhythm that you both enjoy while still being able to breathe. His lips are slightly chapped and you both stumble as he starts walking backwards towards the bed, but it's so wonderful. His hand against your jaw is warm and comforting, even as his other hand is slipping teasingly under your robe and his teeth suckle a mark into your collarbone. 

Movement on the bed catches your attention and you flush when you realize it's Moni, Namjoon's very sweet dog that came with him when he moved in. 

"Uh, Namjoon?" You breathe. It's hard to focus on anything that isn't the way he's teasing at the band of your panties, but the way Moni is staring at you is captivating. "Dog."

Namjoon freezes, hands disappearing from your skin, and he either doesn't hear or doesn't acknowledge your needy whine at the loss of contact. 

"What, what's wrong? Is that your safeword? What did I do?"

"No, Joon," You can barely hear yourself think over the stream of apologies pouring from his lips, and it isn't until you grip his shoulders and forcibly turn him to look at his dog that he shuts up. 

" Oh ," He whispers. "The dog." He clicks his tongue a couple of times and Moni hops down from the bed, though not without giving Namjoon the saddest eyes possible. Moni disappears down the hallway, probably to go lay on the couch, and Namjoon shuts the door behind him. "Sorry," he says bashfully. 

"Don't be sorry," You respond with a smile. " Do , however, fuck me until I can't move." 

A growl vibrates in his chest, surprising you, and you're bouncing atop his mattress before you can think. 

He doesn't say anything else, too focused on the way your folds feel against his tongue as he slides your robe up your thighs. Words are hardly possible for you when he makes you come the first time. Even less so when he turns you onto your hands and knees, presses your face into the mattress, and proceeds to pound into you so hard that the nightstand shakes. Still, your knees are made weak by something else entirely.

It's the tender awareness in his touch; he's firm and unyielding but so, so cautious, consistently testing your reactions before he continues. The way his voice - deepened and husky with desire - sounds in your ear when he asks if what he's doing is okay, if you like it, if you want to keep going. It's how he teases you gently about how wet you are - "God damn, is this all for me? You're so fucking wet, so slick and ready for me, sweetheart," -  the way he's so absolutely tuned in to your own needs and desires, the way he coaxes orgasm after orgasm out of you like it's second nature, his own high an afterthought when you've clenched too tight around him. 

It's the way he brings you water and some fruit afterward and gently cleans you up while you eat before sliding your robe carefully over the blossoming purple marks he sucked into your shoulders. It's the way he didn't close his bedroom door until yours clicked behind you. 

"This was the best idea I've ever had," you sigh happily to yourself as you drift off to sleep. 

“So you’ve got a sir kink?” Namjoon asks several days later, face pressed into a microscope more expensive than your entire apartment building. He doesn’t look at you, even as you tear your eyes away from the computer screen in front of you to glance at him curiously. 

“I do,” You tell him. He shifts in his chair and you bite back a grin. “Is that a problem? We don’t have to use it.”

“No, it’s fine,” He says quickly. “Just thought it was interesting. I didn’t expect that from you.”

“Namjoon, we’ve only known each other for a couple of months, and in that time, we’ve hardly had a conversation about what kinks we enjoy and what we don’t. How would you expect anything?”

“Just...didn’t expect it, that’s all.” He’s quiet for a minute and a sliver of guilt lodges in your throat. You’re right, the two of you haven’t known each other for very long, especially not in a sexual manner, but you could’ve maybe phrased it better. 

“I’m sorry-”

“We should-”

Both of you stop midsentence, turning away from your work to laugh with each other. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Namjoon says with a dimpled smile. “I know what you meant, and you’re right. We don’t know what the other enjoys, so we shouldn’t go into this with any expectations.”

“Maybe we should, though,” You say, marking a sequence that catches your eye so you’ll remember to come back and fully examine it later. “I mean, we can’t exactly fulfill our sexual needs without knowing what said needs are. For instance, how often do you orgasm every week?”

Something tumbles on Namjoon’s desk, and when you look over he’s got the microscope cradled carefully in his hands a few feet above the floor. 

“Uh...maybe twice,” He eventually says.

“Hm. Duly noted.” You turn back to the monitor in front of you, marking another sequence for inspection. 

“Well...how often do you orgasm each week?” He asks. His voice is hesitant, like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to ask.

“Depends,” You tell him. “When I’m close to my period or ovulating, it’s usually once a day, if not twice, because my sex drive is higher, but otherwise it’s usually every other day or so.”

“Oh.” 

“But don’t worry, I’m more than willing to take care of myself on the nights where you need a break. I don’t expect you to keep up with my sex drive.”

“I mean...I could .”

You turn away from the monitor to look at him, quirking a brow. He quirks his own in return and you can’t help the way your eyes travel down his form. He’s wearing contacts instead of his glasses - always does during the workweek, since it’s easier to use a microscope that way - but the light purple shirt sets off the platinum blonde of his hair and his thighs strain against the material of his khakis. It all adds up to make him look absolutely delectable, especially since you know full well what’s hiding underneath those pants. 

“I could,” He repeats. “If you want me to.”

Your eyes meet his and you have no doubt he’s been eyeing you the same way you’ve been eyeing him. 

“I think it might be time for our lunch break, Mr. Kim,” You tell him, eyes darting to the clock on your desk. “I was thinking of going out to get something, would you like to join me?”

Namjoon is already standing and grabbing his jacket, and you would laugh at how eager he is if you weren’t the same way. You can already feel heat beginning to pool between your legs and the two of you rush out of the office in such a hurry that you hardly notice when you run straight into the mail cart. 

“Nice going, Slick!” Kihyun yells after you, and you wish you were ashamed of the way that your knees tremble at the reminder of how it felt to have Namjoon call you that while buried inside of your warmth. 

“They have no idea,” Namjoon mutters, fingers twisting with yours so he can pull you down a hallway and towards an unused office. “If they only knew just how slick you really are.”

You shiver and slam the door closed as Namjoon sinks to his knees. 

The amount of times the two of you fuck at work is utterly ridiculous after that. You have an actual conversation with him about kinks and hard limits and soft limits and all that fun grown-up stuff that’s necessary of an adult relationship, of course, and that only adds to the fire between the two of you. 

He’s more than willing to let you call him Sir while you’re on your hands and knees in front of him, and you’re absolutely willing to ride him into oblivion in those moments when he doesn’t want to be in charge or when he’s had a hard day at work and just wants to relax. Those are your favorite times, actually; when he just sits on the couch and drives himself up into you while you’re fucking yourself back down onto him, eyes clenched shut as his hands glide up your spine and knead your ass. 

The slow, lazy way his hips meet yours is absolutely addictive, you can’t even lie, but you can’t deny that it’s the moment after you’ve both cum that are the real danger. When you’re both panting and spent, laying against the soft sheets on his bed or the cool leather of your couch, and his arm drapes around your torso for those few moments it takes him to regain his breath. 

It’s dangerous, so dangerous, because you’ve already agreed not to have feelings involved in this. You’re friends with benefits, nothing more and nothing less, and you cannot let yourself forget that. Not in the mornings when you wander out in his shirt to find that he’s made breakfast - ordered it, actually, but it’s the thought that counts - or when you walk into work together and he doesn’t hesitate to open the doors for you without even breaking stride, as if it’s second nature to do so. As if he’s used to it. 

It’s when the two of you are at the mall together that reality hits you in the face. 

You’re both on the hunt for different things; he’s got a birthday present he still has to buy and wants to pick up some new treats and sweaters for Moni, while you’re on the hunt for a new toaster to rival that of your old one - which you destroyed on accident by using a metal fork to dig a piece of bread out of. While it was plugged in. And hot. 

Your hands still sting a little, but the ER nurse was adamant that you would be alright. So long as you didn’t try to electrocute yourself again.

“Wait, so you’re not going to be here for New Year’s Eve?” You clarify, popping a piece of chocolate into your mouth. 

“No, I’m heading up to Taehyung’s cabin with the rest of the guys. It’s an annual thing, I don’t even remember how it got started,” Namjoon tells you as he peers into the window of some box store that you already know isn’t going to have anything Taehyung will like. 

“Hm, I guess it’s good I work then, so I can walk Moni.” 

Namjoon shoots you an odd look. “You don’t work, and Jackson’s watching Moni.”

“Uh...I’m pretty sure I work on New Year’s Eve, Namjoon. I would’ve made plans otherwise.”

“Slick, I’m exactly one hundred percent sure the office is closed for New Year’s because it is every year.” He sneaks a piece of chocolate and wrinkles his nose when he realizes it’s mint chocolate. 

“No, because my schedule says-” You start, pulling your phone out to open said schedule so you can show him just how wrong he is. “That I work the next morning. That’s why I didn’t make plans.”

Namjoon just smiles and taps at the screen. “That’s December, Slick. You’re looking at December first.”

You pull the phone back and stare at it, horror washing over you when you see that he’s right. 

You’re going to be spending New Year’s alone, for the first time in years, and loneliness fills you at that thought. Your parents are an entire plane ride away, on vacation for their retirement in some tropical paradise that you can’t remember the name of; your old friends are in an entirely different city, likely already with plans of their own, and you don’t know nearly enough people at work or outside of it to have any idea what people are doing. 

“Oh man,” Namjoon breathes, clearly oblivious to the sudden onset of loneliness that’s hit you. “I knew it was going to be hilarious, but I had no idea it was going to be this good .”

You look up to find him focused on his phone, camera pointing at something you can’t quite make out through the small screen. You follow the view, a reluctant smile breaking out when you spot Hope on the Street dancing along to some holiday song while dressed as an elf. 

“Isn’t that the news anchor that got in trouble for doing anal?” You ask. Namjoon cackles - there’s no other word for it, it’s a cackle - and nods. 

“Yeah, Hoseok’s been forced into doing this as a publicity stunt. We’ve all been looking forward to seeing him do it, too, but god , I had no idea it would be this funny to see. Hobi as a Christmas elf, can you imagine?”

“Hobi?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a close friend of mine,” Namjoon says, eyes never straying from the video as he plays it back. “He’s gonna be at the cabin too, with his girlfriend Cat. There’s like seven of us who all grew up in the same little neighborhood, and we all kept pretty close as we got older. It’s like a little mini-family.”

“Oh,” You say softly. Namjoon tucks his phone back into his pocket and looks around, lighting up as he spots something else. “I didn’t know you knew Hope on the Street.”

“Yeah, he’s a dork,” Namjoon says as he pulls you towards some children’s store. “Come on, I think Yoongi’s working and I like to watch his little dance when he makes the hearts.”

You barely pay attention as Namjoon hurries into the toy store. You don’t join him inside, too busy lost in your own thoughts. 

You should’ve realized, you scold yourself. You should’ve known better. You got comfortable, you got complacent and happy, too enamored with the way Namjoon feels inside of you and the warmth of his hand in yours to realize that you’re still on the outside. 

He and his friends are all going up to some cabin, with their girlfriends apparently, to hang out and have fun together for New Year’s. He didn’t invite you. You’ve lost yourself in the fantasy and complacency of how warm he feels, how it feels like coming home whenever you see him, even when you knew better. 

You knew better than to get attached. You told yourself, every step of the way, not to get attached, don’t develop feelings, it’s just sex, and yet…

And yet your heart is breaking in your chest that he didn’t invite you along, that he didn’t even think to do so. It’s not even fair to him, it’s not his fault that you got too caught up in the domesticity and familiarity of him to remember that this isn’t serious. Why would he invite you? You’re his roommate, a coworker, the girl he fucks every so often. You aren’t his girlfriend, you aren’t anyone important to his friends. 

You’re just the roommate. 

“Hey, look at this bear I made, it’s got a little microscope and everything! It’s perfect for-”

“Sorry,” You interrupt, ignoring the way Namjoon’s smile dims ever so slightly. “I just realized that I’ve got to finish up some analyses before the office closes for the holiday, I’ve gotta go do that. But it’s cute, Moni’ll love it.”

“Okay.” Namjoon’s voice is hushed, and his brows are drawn together. He can obviously tell something’s off, but if you’re lucky, maybe he won’t be able to pinpoint exactly what. “I’ll see you at home then.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you back at the apartment,” You say quickly, not even looking at him as you hurry off the other way. 

You just need space, you tell yourself. You just need some distance so you can get your emotions under control. You can’t be around him when all you want to do is kiss him senseless and tell him how much you want to wake up in his bed forever, how you never want to miss another walk with Moni. He can’t know. 

He won’t know.

"I fucked up."

"You're going to have to be more specific," Jimin’s voice says from the other end of the phone. 

Namjoon groans, resisting the urge to slam his head back against the cabinets. He's standing in the kitchen now, staring longingly at the fridge and whatever food it may contain, because you’re out grocery shopping now, and he would love for you to come back to a hot meal, but there’s a reason you’re grocery shopping this late at night.

"You remember how in college everyone teased me because I'm terrible at one-night stands and I bet Hobi a week's groceries that I totally could?"

"Yes," Jimin says slowly. Something clinks on the other end of the line, and Namjoon wonders what Jimin’s having for dinner. His stomach rumbles in response and he heaves himself across the kitchen to dig through the fridge while Jimin continues. "I also remember how you spent weeks pining over said one-night stand while Hoseok filled the cupboards with every single thing he thought he could get away with buying. Why are you bringing that up now?"

Namjoom stays quiet but hums in victory as he unearths a pizza that isn’t too terribly old. “How long can pizza live in the fridge before it would kill me if I ate it?”

“If you have to ask that question, it’s been too long,” Jimin tells him. Namjoon debates, eyeing the pizza before deciding it looks fine and turning the oven on before sliding the pizza in. “Now, why are you bringing up one night stands and then pizza?”

"You remember how that new girl started at work a few months ago and we ate lunch together and then nearly got fired?"

"Yes, I distinctly remember writing you notes on takeout containers for weeks reminding you not to put foil in the microwave. What does-" Jimin stops, and Namjoon gets the distinct impression that if they were having this conversation in person, he’d be getting the Look. "Joon, tell me you didn't."

"I didn't have a one night stand with her," Namjoon assures him. 

"Good," Jimin says, heaving a sigh of relief. "God only knows what would happen with a one night stand with your roommate-"

"We're friends with benefits." 

Jimin chokes on whatever he’s eating and Namjoon winces sympathetically. 

"It's not that bad," The elder says before Jimin can scold him. "We're very sexually compatible. And she's amazing, Jimin, you don't even know-"

"Joon, isn't this the same girl you spent an entire four hours talking about the day she started working with you?"

"Yeah, so?"

The blonde gives a heavy sigh. Namjoon knows the younger well enough to know he’s shaking his head right now. 

"Please be careful, Namjoon," Jimin eventually says. 

"Oh, don't worry, we've both been tested, and we use condoms every time, there's nothing to worry about."

"That's not the kind of careful I mean," Jimin sighs. He's quiet for a minute as he eats and Namjoon waits for his pizza to be heated enough to eat. "Why do you say you fucked up if you’ve been careful?”

“I…” He hesitates. “I don’t know. I think she’s upset with me. We were at the mall the other day and it was fine, we were laughing at how Hobi looks dressed as an elf-”

“God that video was hilarious -”

“Right?!” They both laugh a little, fondly remembering the sight, before Namjoon sobers. “And then she just...changed. She got all quiet and skittish and ran off before I could give her the bear I made. She didn’t even look at it.”

“And it just happened out of nowhere? What were you talking about?”

“How she’s off work for New Year’s and I’m heading up to the cabin so she doesn’t have to watch Moni or anything, and then I saw Yoongi doing that dance at the store so I wanted to go watch him, and-” He stops, eyes focused on the air in front of him. 

“Joon? You good?”

“Hypothetically speaking,” He begins, a realization hitting him all at once, “What would happen if I put a pizza in the oven to reheat without taking it out of the box?”

“Oh my fucking god, Namjoon, get it out!”

There’s a flurry of smoke while Namjoon does just that and rushes to open the window so he can let some of the smoke out before you get back home. Jimin’s still berating him - albeit fondly - when he picks the phone back up. 

“It’s fine,” Namjoon says quickly, “It’s cool, nothing’s actually on fire anymore. And the pizza’s warm!”

“Oh my god, how have you survived this long.” Namjoon smiles at Jimin’s words; he gets a lot of shit for being wildly unobservant, but he knows that the others love him dearly. Why else would they still talk to him? Really, after the incident with the tub at Jungkook’s apartment, it’s truly a miracle he still has friends, and love is the only explanation. 

“But seriously, I don’t know what I did with Slick. Do you think I was too...obvious?”

“Namjoon,” Jimin says seriously. “If this girl is anything like you, and based on that time she tried to screenshot a crack in phone screen I’m inclined to believe she is, then I think the issue is that you aren’t being obvious enough . You said she got all weird after you mentioned the cabin, right?”

“Yeah. I thought she’d be happy that she wouldn’t be stuck with Moni, but-”

“Did you consider that since she thought she was working, she doesn’t have any other plans and is now stuck in the apartment by herself since she just moved here recently?”

“Oh.” Guilt surges through him as the door opens and your voice echoes that you picked up some takeout while you were gone. “I gotta go.”

“Ah-ah,” Jimin says quickly. “My payment?”

“Yes, Jimin, I love you dearly, you are the light of my life, I would never have survived this long were it not for your sage wisdom, I owe you my firstborn.”

“Much better! Some of the others could learn from you.” Jimin’s laugh continues long after he’s hung up, Namjoon is sure of it. 

You aren’t sure why the apartment smells like smoke when you get back, but you decide not to question it and just be grateful you had the foresight to pick up some takeout on your way back from the store. 

 When you get into the kitchen, Namjoon is there, with a smoking pizza box on the stove beside him. He’s not in his work clothes; instead, he looks comfortable and cozy in some sweats and a faded tee with his glasses halfway down his nose. Your heart lurches painfully in your chest at the sight and you force yourself to remember that he isn’t yours . 

“Hey! Did you hear me? I got takeout, since I figured neither of us wanted to cook. And I’m glad I did, what’s with the smoke?” A thought strikes you as you set the bags on the table. “Oh no, did you try to use the toaster? I told you not to, it got weird after that night with the fork, we need to replace it.”

“Do you wanna go to the cabin?” 

You freeze, halfway to the fridge to put away the ice cream that he likes. “What?” You ask. 

“The cabin. Do you want to go with me for New Year’s Eve, with everyone?” Namjoon takes the ice cream and finishes your journey for you, sticking it in the freezer without a second thought. “If you don’t want to take advantage of a quiet apartment, that is. You’re welcome to join, and I figured that was obvious, but then I realized that it may not be, so I wanted to offer.”

“With you and all of your friends? I don’t really... know any of them.” 

“That’s fine, they’re not that bad. They’re all pretty friendly, once you get to know them at least.” Namjoon says as he takes some vegetables out of your hands to put them in the fridge as well. “And I have no doubt that the others are going to bring some of their friends. Yoongi’s girlfriend will be there, she seems sweet. And Cat and Star are always nice, you’d love them.” 

You hesitate, though you aren’t sure why. This is what you wanted, so why doesn’t it make you happy?

“Besides, they’ll all be happy to have another friend around to bother. Jin loves to feed people.” Namjoon flashes his dimples at you and your heart does something complex that you can’t explain. There’s the rush of excitement and the skipped beat that always comes with his dimples, but it twists and clenches as well. Because of course, he’s just taking you as a friend. 

You’re friends. And that’s fine. If you repeat yourself enough times then you’ll believe it. You have to. 

“Yeah, sure!” You say with a grin. “I’d like that. They always sound so fun, it’ll be nice to meet them for real.”

Namjoon beams and helps you put the rest of the groceries away before you both settle in to eat. It’s not anything fancy, simple and quick and just enough to get the two of you through the night so that you didn’t have to cook. You chat about work as you do, a few sequences that might prove promising if you can work them the right way. 

It’s afterward, as you’re both curled up on opposite sides of the couch while some nature documentary plays in the background, that you notice it. 

He’s been fidgety all night, even before you left to get the food, and you didn’t think anything of it before. But now he’s even worse, hands rubbing along his thighs nervously while he shoots you look after look, which you have no doubt he thinks you don’t notice. 

“What is up with you?” You ask him eventually, ignoring the way some bug is eating another bug’s head onscreen. 

“Nothing,” he says in a rush. “Just...ready for bed.”

“Then go to bed.” You say it like it’s obvious, because it is. If he’s so ready to sleep, then he should go; neither of you has ever expected the other to stay up and watch TV together. You’re individuals.

“Okay,” he says softly, adjusting his glasses as he stands. He gets all the way to his bedroom door before he comes back, hovering awkwardly in the hall entrance for several seconds before he finally sits back down on the couch. Now, however, he’s sitting with his thigh pressed against yours, the heat radiating through the shorts you’re wearing and searing into your skin. 

He’s still fidgety, still uneasy for some reason, and it’s as you turn to ask him what the hell’s going on that he pulls you into a kiss. It’s soft and lingering and it makes your stomach flip in all the ways it isn’t supposed to. 

“If you wanted to have sex, you should have just said so,” You whisper against his lips. You can feel it more than hear it as he starts to say something and then cuts himself off with a sigh. 

“I wanna be inside you,” he says instead. “Please.”

Heat pools between your legs, even at such simple words, and you find yourself nodding. He kisses you again, frantic and much more heated than before, and you can already tell what it’ll be like tonight. 

You’re right, too; it’s quick and dirty. You don’t even make it to the bed, not at first. He cages you against the wall in the hallway and slides a hand between your bodies to start to draw your first orgasm out. It’s the whine from the dog that makes you realize where you are, pulling apart long enough to stare at where Moni sits at the hallway entrance, head cocked to the side and watching you with a confused stare. 

That gets you into the bedroom, the door shut behind you as you fall together onto the bed. The two of you barely get your clothes off before Namjoon’s sliding inside of you and groaning at the feeling. 

“Fuck, Slick, you’re so wet,” he whispers against your skin as he thrusts. You can hardly make words, too focused on the way he fits inside of you and the absolute certainty that you cannot say a single word running through your head. 

Not that you’re in love with the way he holds your hips so gently as he thrusts, not how he whispers praise and adoration against you with every press of his lips to your skin, and certainly not how you want to stay like this forever. That you’re absolutely positive you’ve broken the cardinal rules of being fuckbuddies. 

Don’t get feelings. 

But you were a fool, anyway. Because it’s easy to break rules, especially when you go into it with feelings. 

The first orgasm hits you with a shockwave, and with the way Namjoon hits your g-spot, it’s followed by a second shortly after. Your hands claw into the sheets as he fills the condom, and it only takes a minute for him to clean himself up enough to relax in the bed beside you, but you hardly notice; you’re too busy adjusting to the emptiness that you’re left with now that he isn’t inside you, the yearning that fills you down to your bones with the need to be wrapped up in his arms and cradled to his chest as you both drift to sleep.

You force yourself up before you can get comfortable, fatigue sweeping through your bones. 

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go shower,” You tell him. It’s a feat to keep your voice neutral, but you think you manage. “And then head to bed, I think. Uh, thanks. For the orgasms.”

The door to the bathroom closes behind you before he can even get a word out, and you force the image of his confused face out of your mind as you turn the water on. It takes every part of you to resist the urge to linger in the hot spray for longer than you need to be there, but you manage. 

By the time you’re slipping into bed, the light in Namjoon’s room is off and you can hear Moni settling into bed beside Namjoon. You can practically see them, curled up together all warm and settled in together. Content. 

You slip between your own sheets and wrap the fluffy blanket around you. Emotions are swirling in your gut and you do your best to ignore them all. You don’t need to focus on the way you want to be there with them, the way you want to curl your body into his with Moni between you, just the way he likes on the couch. 

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever had,” You tell yourself with a sigh as you try to fall asleep in your lonely bed. 

You don’t know that across the hall, Namjoon lays awake with Moni beside him, wondering how he fucked up so badly that you’re not in his arms anymore. He’d have every intention to tell you about his feelings. He wanted to end this friends-with-benefits thing, put it to rest so that he could take you out for real. So you could be together , for real. 

But you’d just bolted the second he was collapsing onto the bed, like you were running from something, and he wasn’t about to keep you here when you don’t want to be here. 

Still, he thinks as Moni burrows under the blankets to get closer to him, he can’t help but wish you were up against him as well, with your breathing steady and quiet as you sleep and he can feel your chest move with it. 

He just really wishes that you wanted that too.

The drive to the cabin is uneventful. You and Namjoon talk about work most of the way, chatting amicably about a few things that got corrupted in the data that have been frustrating to rebuild and how excited Moni was to see Jackson when he picked the pup up that day. 

You’re only a little nervous when you spot the wooden sign specifying that it belongs to the Kims. You’ve heard a lot of stories about Namjoon’s friends, seen one or two in passing when they come by the apartment to see Namjoon, though you tend to give them space when that happens. 

Still, nothing could ever compare to the welcome that greets you. There’s some kind of karaoke going on, with Taehyung and Star watching from the couch. There are crutches propped up nearby and you wonder what the story is there for the few seconds before your attention is drawn to the kitchen, where who you assume is Seokjin is scolding someone for shoving entirely too many cookies into their mouth. You catch sight of someone - blonde, giggling, followed by a sweet-looking girl - run out of the kitchen with his cheeks puffed out and crumbs on his lips, and you shoot Namjoon a look. 

“Jimin,” He explains with a grin. “C’mon, let’s go claim the den before someone else can get to it.”

That night is hectic, to say the least. Namjoon was right when he said his friends are welcoming, though; everyone is friendly and talkative - except for Pumpkin, Seokjin’s best friend who genuinely looks like she’s about to murder someone for the few moments that you see her during dinner but Namjoon assures you “That’s just her face, I promise.” Even when the boys get to reminiscing about the days they spent in that cul-de-sac, they include everyone else in their stories. 

Especially fun is when they all come up with theories about why Cat and Hobi are late, and while from what you’ve heard so far tonight, you agree with the proposal that they’re probably fucking, you still feel a sliver of worry for them. 

It’s the mention of sex that gets your stomach churning, though. Because Namjoon shoots you a knowing look, the same one he gets when you wear those ultra-short shorts around the house that he adores, and you already know what he wants. You can’t even say you don’t want it, too, because you don’t think you could ever turn down the opportunity to have him like that. It’s just so bittersweet when it ends-

“I’m going to start on dessert,” Seokjin states as he gathers plates. Yoongi and Peaches are gone in record time, and Taehyung and Star follow not long after, though it takes considerably longer with the way Taehyung helps her. Seokjin calls after them all that he’ll have dessert ready in a little while, and Namjoon shoots you another look when Jimin and Pumpkin don’t move from the table. 

“C’mon,” Namjoon whispers, grabbing your hand and urging you down the hallway. “Get our bags, we’re gonna steal Jin’s room.”

“That doesn’t seem like the best idea,” You whisper in return, though you do in fact grab the bags as he directs. “Isn’t that also Pumpkin’s room? Are we sure she won’t murder us?”

“No, it’ll be fine, Jin would never let her.” The thought isn’t as comforting as Namjoon means it to be, but you manage to get your bags in the room and their bags out without anyone the wiser. 

You realize your mistake too late. This room only has one bed. A singular sleeping area. The den has couches, you would have been fine, but you can’t sleep here. You can’t share the bed with Namjoon; it’s entirely too dangerous. Getting to see him still completely sleep soft, warm against you as the two of you doze in the early morning light? 

There would be no coming back from that. 

The thought leaves nearly as quick as it enters, driven away by the slide of Namjoon’s arms as he wraps them around you. 

"Do you want it, Slick?" His voice is deep and rumbling, almost a purr in your ear, and it makes your knees weak. It's truly ridiculous how easy it is for him to rile you up, but fuck , can you really complain?

Except you can, because it's not what you want. It's not everything you want. You can't ask for more, though, not when he doesn't want to give it.

His hands snake towards the waistband of your pants - fancy grey pinstriped pants that you bought specifically because Namjoon told you that Seokjin has a fancy dress code for New Year's Eve - and your heart jumps up into your throat. You spin in his arms, doing your best to look enthusiastic. 

"I want to blow you," You tell him as you sink to your knees. He leans back against the wall and quirks a brow, but he nods his agreement.

You set to work almost immediately; you're determined to make this the best blowjob of his life. It's the least you can do. You don't tell him that, though; you can't tell him. Not this. Not that you're so deeply entrenched in your feelings for him that you're afraid if you don't get out now you won't be able to. Not that you can't bear to have him touch you because you're afraid of what will come out of your mouth, what you might say or reveal that he doesn't want to know. 

Not when you're going to have to end this, as you decided while laying in bed two nights ago, cold and exhausted and utterly alone. 

You focus again on Namjoon, reminding yourself to pay attention. His dick is big - big enough that your fingers can only barely meet when you wrap them around it, but it means your jaw aches deliciously when you go down on him, and you adore the feeling of it in your throat.

So you swallow him down completely, burying him to the hilt with one swift movement. You've been practicing, and it has clearly paid off if the choked moan that escapes him is any indication. His hands tangle in your hair, not pulling or pushing but instead just sitting there and moving with you as you pull off just to bury him again. 

You look up and are pleased to find that his eyes are screwed shut, jaw clenched tight against the moans building inside of his chest. But that won't do at all. The best blowjob of his life can't possibly be one where he doesn't even look at you.

To rectify the situation, you bring one hand up to tease at his balls, squeezing ever so slightly in the way you know he likes as you swallow around his cock. He does moan then, fingers clenching in your hair as he opens his eyes to look down at you. 

"Fuck, just like that, Slick," He pleads. "Again, please again, it's perfect." You comply, humming an affirmative around his dick that makes him shudder before you swallow around him again. "God, fuck , you're so fucking perfect. Fucking amazing, the best, I can't believe I get to have this-"

Namjoon continues, mumbling in and out of coherency as you bop your head up and down on his cock. He's thick and heavy in your mouth and it feels like heaven on your tongue - it always does - and just when you think you can never get enough-

"Fuck, I love you so much, Slick, you're a god damn angel."

You pull off his dick, staring wide-eyed at him. Namjoon whines and looks down at you, clearly not comprehending what's just come out of his mouth.

"Fuck," He mutters. "Fuck, shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I don't...I'm so sorry I didn't want you to know, especially not like this. Shit. "

"Are you serious?" You ask as you stand back up. Namjoon makes a belated movement to help steady you, blood flowing back into your calves from where you were kneeled down for a while, but he stops himself. He doesn't even look at you, really, instead staring out the window nearby. "Namjoon, seriously. Did you mean that?"

"I mean…" He hesitates, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Yeah. I did. I do. It's still new so I can't be entirely sure, but I think that's what this is." 

He heaves a sigh and tucks himself back into his slacks before moving to sit on the bed, one hand running through his platinum hair. 

"You weren't supposed to know," He mutters. "I thought I could keep it a secret. I didn't want to make it weird between us since you don't…" 

"Since I don't...feel the same?" You ask as you sit beside him. "You really...care about me like that?"

"Yeah," Namjoon whispers with a grin. It's fond and sweet and everything you've ever wanted and it's so unbearably familiar because it's how he's always looked at you. "Ever since we almost burned the lab down, I think."

"Same," You breathe, and you can't deny the way that you love the light that sparks in his eyes at that. "Ever since you ate the vegetables out of my rice and gave me your eggrolls." 

"Are you-"

"Yeah," You say with a laugh. "I guess we're kind of both at fault for this, then."

"Can I…" Namjoon trails off, searching for the words he wants. His hands move to wrap around yours, lacing your fingers together as he gives you a smitten smile. "We've been fucking for a while. As you know. But would you do me the honor of letting me make love to you?" 

You gulp, an audible and atrocious thing, because his words send a surge of desire straight to your core. He's right, you have been fucking, because that's the only thing the two of you can call it. You don't make eye contact, you don't sleep over, there are rules , but god, the two of you break everything else, so why not this?

"Please," You whisper.  

His lips are on yours in an instant, his hands following quickly after to strip your clothes off. You can't be sure when his clothes join the pile on the floor, just that one moment your fists are clenched in his shirt and the next, you're raking your nails down his bare back as he sucks purple marks into your neck. 

"God, you're beautiful," He mutters. "Fucking divine." 

"Then I match you, don't I?" You whisper. Two of his fingers slide into you, and both of you moan at the feeling. He glides them against your walls, teasing that one spot inside of you that he knows you adore, and you whine a little.

"Patience, my dear," He chuckles. When you whine again he grins, dimples making your stomach flip. "Alright then, Slick. Let me get a condom."

"No," You say quickly. "We've been exclusive, right? No risk or anything like that. I've got the implant. 98% effective. I want…"

"Say it, love," Namjoon breathes, eyes never leaving yours. 

"I want to feel you. Please." He nods at your words and settles between your thighs once more. Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought of what's to come. 

"Tell me if you want to stop," he says as he presses kisses to your neck, up your throat, and across your cheeks. He does it all to distract you as he slides inside, but he doesn't need to. You've been fucking him for months now, you know exactly how big he is, and you're more than ready for it. 

What you aren't ready for is the way his skin feels against your walls, how you can feel every pulse and throb of his cock inside you. It's better than anything you've ever felt, beyond any descriptors you could find, and it only gets better as he slides out and then back in. 

His pace is slow but steady, a rhythmic glide to it that's making you obscenely wet. It's a stark contrast to the gentle way he kisses you, the softness of his lips against yours. The sound of his skin hitting yours fills the room as he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. 

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me," You tell him, sliding your hands along every inch of skin you can get. 

Nothing is loud enough to mask the sound of the door opening, however, and when you glance over you can see that Hoseok and Cat have apparently finished whatever the fuck it was they were doing. 

You shy back, doing your best to cover yourself from their eyes, but Namjoon's pace doesn't falter. 

" Taken ," He growls. He doesn't even break eye contact as he does so, and the way his hand tightens on your hip makes you think he isn't just talking about the bedroom. 

Thankfully the couple disappears after that, closing the door behind them as they go, and it flips a switch inside Namjoon somehow. 

His pace speeds up, pistoning in and out of you mercilessly. He starts to angle his hips, searching until you finally cry out with your back arching up off the bed itself. He just smiles and continues to hit that spot, one hand moving to support your back while the other rubs teasing circles into your clit. 

"That's it, love," he purrs. "Wanna watch you come for me like this. Let yourself fall apart on my cock, Slick, I'll be right here. I've got you." 

You really wish you could figure out what exactly it is he does then; some kind of swivel of his hips while his fingers do some complicated twist or something, you have no doubt, but nevertheless, it's got you unraveling underneath him. You clench around him, harder than you ever have, and you can feel the sheets soaking underneath you from the strength of your orgasm. 

It takes barely two more thrusts for Namjoon to come as well, stilling slightly as his cum hits your walls for the first time. It's warm and you can feel it settling inside of you, but you can't say you don't enjoy it. 

You're both panting, out of breath and exhausted and having worked all the food Seokjin made out of your system. Namjoon disappears for a few seconds before returning with a warm cloth to clean you up; his hands are tender as he does so, and you find yourself falling even deeper. 

After a quick power nap and an even quicker quickie - because Namjoon insisted that it wasn't fair that you got to go down on him but he didn't get to go down on you - the two of you mingle with the others. Hoseok and Cat fit seamlessly into the group, filling a space you hadn't realized was missing during dinner. It's obvious to you, as you lean against the kitchen island and watch them all, just how much this group loves each other. Even the newcomers, like the new girlfriends, are absorbed so perfectly into the existing group that it's as if they never left.

Hell, even Pumpkin is smiling a little, although you can't be sure it's not just because Seokjin looks Like That. 

"Ooh, icing," Namjoon says as he comes to join you in the kitchen. Seokjin barely gets a chance to say anything as Namjoon drags his thumb across the white droplet and sucks it into his mouth. 

The baker looks horrified, and you wish you knew why. Namjoon agrees, based on the look on his face. 

"What?" Namjoon asks. "It was good." Seokjin's face is as pale as it can possibly get when he waves Namjoon away, and you have a sneaking suspicion of just what your boyfriend put in his mouth. 

You don't bother to hide your smile as said boyfriend comes over to you and hands you a glass of champagne.

"What are you so happy about?" He asks teasingly.

"You," You tell him honestly. It's worth it when he ducks his head, shy smile making his dimples stand out even as he tries to hide it. "I adore you."

Namjoon doesn't respond, just kisses you. He breaks away for a few minutes, saying something to someone else, and when the clock strikes midnight, he presses another gentle kiss to your lips.

"What are you wishing for?" He asks. 

"Midnight wishes? Really?" You tease. He cocks a brow and you smile. "I don't need to wish for anything. I got everything I wanted this year." 

"Really? Everything?" 

You nod, straightening his tie ever so slightly. "And what about you? What are you wishing for?"

"Oh, that's easy." He wraps an arm around you and grins. "For you to finally accept the bear I made you that day in the mall."

"Moni loves that thing, I couldn't possibly take it from him."

"But it's got a microscope! And a lab coat!"

Well then," You tell him, dropping your voice so the others won't hear. "I suppose you'll have to make me another." 

He glances over to where Yoongi and Peaches stand and then back to you. 

"Covert mission to also get another for Jisoo?"