#namjoon

since the first "get to know you" day of kindergarten, you and kim namjoon have been inseparable. having clicked as soon as a light blue clad joon's eyes met pastel pink and bows you during lunch time.

he could vividly remember the sloppily written lettering of your name on the small "hello, my name is" sticker laid prettily on your left shoulder, the thick curls of your hair pulled back into a ponytail with pink ribbon decorating the base.

the way your eyes lit up as you opened your hello kitty lunch box to find it full of sweets and a quick, homemade meal with chicken cut up into the shape of a bunny. watching as you pushed the box between the two of you to share, chubby cheeks stuffed to the brim.

though, he loved to leave out the part where he cried as the school day came to a close, balling a tiny yet impossibly tight fist into the fabric of your dress to the point where he had to be pried away by his eomma and promised that he'd see you the next day.

as time went on and in middle school came, you two would be seen attached at the hip: walking to school together with namjoon carrying your bag and tying your shoes, bringing you to class, and so forth and so on.

it was safe to say that from then on, the pair of you had wreaked havoc on each of the poor teachers of your school careers; gossiping in the back of class, being utterly unproductive during group projects, and many, many others that led to weeks spent in the library after school for detention.

see, as you graduated to high-school nothing changed.

sure you'd grown far maturer and became introduced to a world full of negative influences, but the bond between you two never wavered. the red ribbon of fate still connects you thoroughly by the pinky finger.

namjoon became captain of the robotics team and you a cheerleader, but your set routine as best-friends lingered—strengthening even.

he began growing protective, seeing as you were the same pretty little innocent thing you'd been since elementary, still dressed in pink and bows but now catching the unwanted attention of the outside world.

and when rumors of the two of you being together found themselves slithering into the minds of the student body, joon didn't do a thing to stop them, reveling in the comfort it gave him with assurance of your safety.

it even landed you a golden spot in the high-school yearbook of superlatives, both your names written in bold letters under 'Most Likely to Stay Together After Graduation.'

and stay together is exactly what you did.

fast forward to your senior year of college, it's the first semester and you and namjoon share a small yet comfortably luxe apartment in the heart of seoul, decorated to a distinct mixture of the two of you—lots of greenery and wooden accents for namjoon with pink throw pillows and hello kitty shaped plant pots for you.

it's endearing, seeing traces of your familiarity and passion like a juxtaposition throughout the home. wouldn't want it any other way.

about nine thirty is when you pop up out of bed, your hair strewn about your head askew to the left, proof of your habit of being quite the wild sleeper.

you make quick work of hopping the shower and starting your daily routine, lathering yourself in your favorite honey vanilla lotion and layering the scent with a lightly scented perfume.

by the time you throw on a matching set and your favorite robe, fuzzy slippers on your cold feet before trudging into the living room, you catch sight of namjoon bare chested with a pair if oversized plaid pajama pants hanging low on his waist, a watering pot in hand as he tends to the plants he likes to call your children.

the morning sun beams brightly between the white, linen curtains of the room, the harsh light bothering your eyes and makes you bring a nimble hand up to try and block it out whilst grimacing.

"and she finally awakes. morning, baby," he smiles, eyes low but ever so expressive as he looks at you with nothing short of adoration.

"there's tea and oatmeal for you on the counter. go on and eat for me, okay?" namjoon's always been a morning person, finding himself awake at the ass-crack of dawn to read, meditate, and do a little bit of writing here and there.

so it doesn't surprise you that he's chipper so early, cheesing, voice a little louder than intended. though, it does make you grumble with annoyance and pout, mood sour as your head pounds.

not saying much as you walk to the marbled island counter that sits dead smack in the center of the kitchen, your kuromi mug steaming from the peach tea he'd made and next to it, a brown wooden bowl and spoon filled with warm oatmeal that's topped with berries, honey, and vanilla granola—just to your preference.

"remember, we have to stop by the studio to meet up with the guys today," he's calling out to you. "gotta leave out by eleven."

"i know, joon," you grumble, snarky and mean but you really don't mean it. you just weren't feeling the best and your words escape you without the slightest thought of how they might sound.

"don't start. fix the attitude before we leave out," he says, voice stern and commanding as he washes his hands, drying them before leaning back onto his palms when he goes to glare at you shoveling food into your mouth.

you pause, cheeks round and swollen with oatmeal. "'m just tired."

"i know, princess. once we get back home, you can take the rest of the day resting up," he's promising, kissing your forehead from across the counter, and reassuring you that it'll be quick.

you hum and namjoon finds it all too amusing when you stomp your little self over to the sink, sulking and pouting as you wash out your dishes.

it takes everything in him not to take matters into his own hands and straighten you out right then and there. spanking your lil ass raw 'till you remember your manners but it's early, and hopefully the combination of food in your system and sun on your skin puts you in a better mood.

you drag your feet up the stairs, the sound of your slippers scrapping against the wooden flooring making him groan. "pick up your feet," he says, scowling when you merely put your middle finger up in his direction.

that's strike one.

at the vanity situated on your side of the room specifically dedicated to you and your makeup process, you sniff whilst putting the finishing touches to your beat: gold highlighter in your inner corners and a black wing on the outer, pink blush on your cheeks. you put extra attention on your makeup today, hoping that it would help with your mood.

just a heads up, it didn't.

namjoon stands dressed in all black: a pull over hoodie with a white tank underneath that's peeking out at the bottom, oversized, black sweatpants, a leather bomber jacket, and pairs it with low top, nike blazer courts. he leans against the door frame with crossed arms, admiring as you line your lips with brown and fill the inside with pink gloss.

"how are you feeling," he asks as he makes his way toward you, hands grasping onto your shoulders when he stands behind your chair. you make eye contact in the mirror, him almost immediately catching sight of your lip jutting out on instinct.

"do you think i look pretty?" you disregard his prior question, responding with your own because you need confirmation on days that you feel like shit.

he smiles at your reflection, bending down to speak into your ear and takes pride in seeing your reaction. squirming in your seat. "the fuckin' prettiest, baby."

"do you really think so?" he coos at your round eyes that stare back into his within the mirror. “or are you only saying it because you have to?”

"i know so, my love.”

you commend him for his efforts but it just wasn't enough. you were too far deep.

"god, i just want this day to fucking end," you say and it makes joon press his lips together and you know why. he's always hated when you cursed, believing that pretty girls shouldn't say ugly words, and he's right, usually is. but right now, you're blind to what differentiates ugly from pretty.

the angel on your shoulder tells you to revert back to old ways, fall into line and be his good girl for the day, but the devil on the opposite reigns supreme, poking and stabbing at namjoon's buttons that are clearly lined with the warning, "do. not. touch." it’s just so tempting.

"what'd i say about today?" you hear his voice ask, eyes now low and mean, just waiting for you to give him reason to take you over his lap. you're working your way up to strike two. just about one and a third now.

"to not act out and to fix my attitude." you roll your eyes as you recite the words, standing before nudging him out of the way so you could get pass. grabbing your bag, you leave the room with knitted brows. "ugh."

it takes namjoon a moment to gather himself. you hear him speak a few sharp words under his breath before bringing the skin of his lip between his teeth to stop himself, feeling the pot start to boil with each passing moment. but he breathes, tells himself that this run should be quick, the faster it goes, the quicker he can get you in bed and figure out a way to make this tantrum go away.

joon can't help the clenching of his jaw, chewing on his tongue as he heads downstairs, your jacket in his hand. taking care of you, he helps you work your arms into the sleeves of it: his old letterman jacket from highschool in which his name decorates the back with the number "7" underneath it. ironic, right?

his eyes peer down at you when he goes to open the door for you, shutting it and making sure to lock it once you know you have everything, because you're known for leaving things behind and throwing an absolute fit once you realize.

there's been so many times where you've been late for reservations, gathering, events, because fifteen minutes into the ride, you're only then noticing that you left your lip gloss on the kitchen counter and proceed to cry until he's forced to drive back to get it.

the boys have always told him that he's spoiled you rotten. giving you anything you could ever ask for at the drop of the dime just because he likes it when you're smiling from ear to ear. he's been giving you your way for the longest because you're so pretty when you look up at him with awaiting eyes.

it's been so long catering to you, expecting everything to fall into the palms of your hands. it's gotten so bad that whenever you hear the word 'no' directed towards you, you're immediately storming off and throwing a hissy fit.

it's not your fault for being princess, is what he likes to say. trying to justify both his and your actions but when push comes to shove, there's no other possible outcome other than being faced with the fact that you're a spoiled little brat and it's ultimately his fault.

that's why you huff when he goes to grab at the passenger side door handle just so that you wouldn't have to—just because you know you've got him so tightly wrapped around your pinkie finger.

he tugs at it, waiting for you to tuck your head under the frame and when you don't, he's bringing his free hand to the crown of your head, pressing down to force you into the plush of the seat as if he were a cop detaining a suspect before slamming the door shut.

there's nothing that you want more than to curl up into a ball and run back into the comfort of your own home, hands tightening into little fists and they rest on your thighs.

you can't help but take notice on the way namjoon's jaw bulges from its clinching, pearly white teeth grinding because he's this fucking close to being mean. this close to leaving you crying because that's the way you're trying to make him feel—like a fucking asshole.

he doesn't understand it. namjoon can't see to understand for the life of him how a girl so pretty can be so utterly filled with the overwhelming urge to be such a brat despite getting everything she's ever asked.

you wanna go out shopping for your girls trip next month? one that he's funding? yeah of course, he's holding your bags and trailing behind an empty handed you from store to store.

you've been looking at that one dior bag for the longest, right? the next day, you see a pretty box wrapped up in a pink bow with a bouquet of dozens of your favorite flowers resting in the bed when you come back from your weekly luxury spa visit.

but when he asks you for one thing. that being to put your attitude aside for just a couple hours, he's met with nothing. nada. zilch.

it infuriates him. the sweet, round faced namjoon with a thick wallet and a means to please you starting to fade into the version of himself who doesn't put up with your bullshit and isn't afraid of putting you in your place.

it's a rarity that you're in trouble—or even falling close to it. he's always been patient with you, able to talk to you in just the right tone to hold you off. gets your head floating and molding you until you break away from that more brattier side of you.

it's easy to do but quite frankly, namjoon is becoming fed up with your shit.

the night before, you had been fine. he'd held you in his arms, kissed both sets of your lips as a reward, whispered in your ear sweet nothings until your eyes fluttered shut. everything was perfect. absolutely what could've changed overnight?

when he made it to the driver's side of the car, lips pursed shut and pads of two fingers to the feature as he pulled out of the parking spot, you found yourself practically compressed against the passenger side door, head leaning against the cool glass, trying to melt and camouflage into it.

you know he still cares when he motions with his fingers and tells you to put something on the radio, eyes never moving from their position on the road.

and you do so, otw by khalid sounding from the speakers. it's mellowing, soothing. has the knot at the small of your back diminishing, making you sigh as you watch the blur of tall buildings and street lights shoot past you.

it's a fairly quick ride to the studio, being midday on a tuesday, everyone's already at work so traffic is minimal. namjoon's easily able to put an extra force behind his foot on the gas, weaving in and out of lanes because the streets are pretty much dead.

parking in the small lot situated at the back of the building, joon takes a look to his right to see you dozed off. eyes closed, hands folded in your lap whilst your neck bends uncomfortably to the right.

gently, he rests his hand on the side of your face, softly hoisting you up before unbuckling your seatbelt. "mama, we're here," he speaks just above what describes a whisper.

it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, squinting once they finally open before you realize a tense groan. "mm, joon, can i just stay in here," you ask, comfortable in your spot. it's not like you were going to do anything in there but sit off to the side. could he just let you be?

"i don't know how long i'll be here for. you have to come in," he's saying, shaking his head back and forth. one good look at the way your face morphs into an unfitting scowl, he knows he's gonna have to take a different approach.

he removes his keys from the ignition, stepping out of the car before he's rounding the hood and making his way to your side. you watch as he opens the passenger door, leaning his body forward to where his upper half is in the frame, face now leveled with your own and just a few inches away. so close that you can smell the mint on his breath.

"don't get in here acting a fucking fool," he says, gripping into your chin when you go to turn your head the opposite way. his tone catches you off guard. only then do you realize that he's had it about up to here with you.

you pull your face away from his, only to get back a thick hand wrapping around your neck, fingers pressing into the base tightly to have you drawing closer and closer. his lips ghost your own as he's growing more stern and stern. "do it, and see what happens. i'll embarrass you."

"okay, joon." your eyes water, but he knows it isn't real. big, fat crocodile tears because you know its his weakness. you think they'll work but he's too far deep, grabbing your hands to guide you from the car's seat.

still, your lip is jutted out in a pout, allowing for yourself to be pulled up to the stairs of the studio, dark double doors opening before you in which you're stepping into with your free hand pulled into a fist.

the other six that make up bangtan are already situated in their designated booth, engaged in playful banter as they wait for the leader.

upon walking into the room and immediately catching sight of two free chairs seated to the far left that you just know namjoon will be pushing you into, you quickly decide against it when you see an empty chair next to jimin. you're then pulling your hand from his larger one to make a beeline directly to it.

he cuts his eyes, leaving the situation alone for now. he'll let you think you've gotten under his skin when in reality, you're just digging yourself deeper into a problem you'll have to face once you get home.

at this point, it's inevitable.

jimin stifles a laugh when you make your way over. pretty face balled up tightly and he thinks you resemble an angry little bunny. "hi, pretty," he greets, smiling when you sit and wave.

"hyung, what'd you do to her," jungkook turns to ask namjoon, a ball point pen pressed to his small notebook in which holds the lyrics of their upcoming album. "looks just about ready to knock someone's head clean off."

that makes them all laugh and you have to grab onto the underside of the chair to stop yourself from calling an uber and leaving. pronto.

its humiliating when namjoon chuckles, sitting down and making himself comfortable on the couch in which yoongi and hoseok does too, legs parted with his arms crossed at his roomy chest. "she wouldn't swat at a fly, let alone lay hands on somebody," he speaks, having zero regard for the way you glare at him from the other side of the room.

you want to say something, want to argue back with a sharp tongue and harsh words but namjoon's voice back in the car played repeatedly in your mind, the look in his eye when he grabbed onto your throat. it was grounding enough to have you pursing your lips to keep them shut.

leaning back in your chair, you pull out your phone, your case glimmers and gleams, rhinestones catching onto the iridescent light illuminating the room, and namjoon watches as you type, biting down on his tongue while a smile forms on your pretty lips.

you're typing away to someone with eager eyes, fingers tapping and your nails clanking against the screen and it drives joon mad. so utterly and completely insane. it's a little irrational but you probably could've blinked in the wrong way and his top would pop the fuck off.

you've made his patience wear dangerously thin. just a little more pressure until it snaps.

an hour and a half passes, full of paperwork signing and a few touch ups to certain tracks here and there. at least forty-five minutes of it was spent with you giggling under your breath at whatever pops up on your for you page and direct messages from friends.

a few times, you even tilted your screen into jimin's direction in between topics to show something you found funny in which he would always watch and chuckle before shooting a quick glance into his hyung's direction, welcomed with the sight of slitted eyes and a clenched jaw, and he's quick to put two and two together.

when yoongi finishes playing the tracklist for their new album, bangtan decides to call it quits, even so much as setting up an impromptu hotpot and karaoke night for celebration amongst the guys.

but unfortunately for you, namjoon has other plans. "can i rain check tonight," he asks before continuing. "i have to have to get home and do some work around the house."

your eyebrows shoot up, dropping your phone into your lap to look at him incredulously knowing damn well it's a lie, but you keep your mouth shut and wait until they exchange words, saying that it’s no problem and to get home safely.

"don't touch me," you say, wincing when namjoon tightly grips onto your forearm, neck bulging with veins as he seethes.

you're done for.

each of his buttons are pressed, control switches in gear—set in stone. there's no running or hiding because now, you're on strike three and no amount of faux tears can get you out of the lesson you're about to get taught.

"walk or i'll throw your lil ass over my shoulder," he says, voice deep, demanding, and leaving no room for back talk, and you can't make space, either. "and i dare you to try it. i really fuckin' do."

it has you pressing one foot in front of the other, legs shaky whilst your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. seems you might've bitten off way more than you could chew.

you and jimin lock eyes and immediately you're met with a smile so sickly sweet because he knows that'll be that last touch of gentle you'll get. the dark glint in his hyung's eyes tells him everything he needs to know.

you're fucked. both literally and figuratively.

good luck, he mouths over before you're being dragged out of the studio by the intense grip on your arm. you'll need it.

you shake in namjoon's hold, back flexing away from his touch when his hand moves to the back of your neck, clutching tightly. it's grounding. keeping your head from straying too far from the harsh reality of the situation at hand.

"been acting out your fuckin' ass all day," he speaks, fumbling with his keys to press the unlock button. but he waits to put you in the car, turning you around so that you face him.

you're able to see the skin of his forehead crease in annoyance, his thin eyebrows that arch with anger, and his lips that utter sharp words.

"you're being mean, joonie. don't be mean to me," you say, thinking it's gonna get you somewhere but news flash: it doesn't.

"i'm being mean," he laughs but it's humorless. tongue drawing circle on the wall of his inner cheek to stop himself from causing a scene. “you've been mean to me this entire morning and when you finally get me to where you've wanted, i'm being mean?"

"get in the fuckin' car." when you go to interject, he's grabbing your face, digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks so that your lips jut out in a pout. "don't talk to me."

he then nudges you away, going to round the trunk till he's getting situated into the driver's seat, not even opening your door like the gentleman he is. because right now, fiery hot annoyance bubbles within him and he's ready to put you in your place. asap.

you huff as you get into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut at your side before your arms are crossing over your chest that heaves, pretty tits pressed against your forearms and it takes everything in namjoon not to pull your top down and suck on your pebbled nipples right then and there.

"don't slam my doors. you know how i feel about that," he speaks, not bothering to look at you because he knows it'll have him crumbling. he needs you to learn. to learn that there's a time and place for everything. and the day that he actually needs to get things done is absolutely not one of them.

"i honestly don't care," you say, looking out the window so that you wouldn't have to face namjoon's intimidating eyes. "wouldn't be slamming shit if you just left me home."

that's when you feel the press of namjoon's nike clad foot to the gas pedal. "you keep talkin'," he grunts out when the driver beside him honks, continuing when he bobs the lanes in order to get around them. "keep fuckin' digging a hole you can't cry yourself out of."

"but imma tear your lil ass up when we get home. don't even worry about it."

your lips part into a silent gasp, eyes widening. "what, that's not even fair. you've been acting like an asshole to me all day! i just wanted to stay home and get some rest because my head was fucking pounding, namjoon."

"i asked you to do one thing. one thing only. gave you tylenol, fed you, and asked you to do one thing as simple as be good and you do the exact opposite." his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. "and now you wanna cry wolf because you're in trouble."

he's chuckling, low in a deep rumble from the center of his chest. you can feel the irritation bubbling up, rising to his neck in the form of stubborn veins and its suffocating. too much.

it's only when the car slows to a stop at a red light when namjoon acknowledges you, looking in your direction with mean eyes. "get in the backseat," he's saying as he presses down on the lock of your seatbelt, hearing the familiar 'click!' before he's roughing you up. "hurry the fuck up."

tears swell your eyelids at his tone. "stop cursing at me," you retaliate, voice small though the increasingly wet patch in your panties is thick, filled with arousal because the duality of him has you spinning. it's satiating.

"you only seem to listen when i speak to you like this so get in the fucking backseat. now."

it has you scrambling, your miniskirt catching onto the rounds of your ass when you go to climb over the center console and into the back, legs feeling like jelly but it feels so good.

the light turns green and off joon goes, speeding down the streets but one arm reaches behind his seat that's already slightly pushed back to accommodate his size, making it easy for his hand to grasp onto your ankles placing them onto the console before he's pulling down your skirt, never removing his eyes from the road.

he’s always been good at multitasking.

"get her ready for me," he says and now it's crazily obvious why he put you there. the backseat windows are tinted, only being able to see out but not the other way around. it blocks the view of inside the car, giving the perfect place to have you spread out and completely at his mercy.

you give him what he wants without needing further instruction, fingers shooting down to pull inside the skimpy cloth you call underwear and immediately being met with cool air directly on your clit. it makes a shiver run up your spine before you're spreading your pussy lips open, fingers in the shape of a ‘v’ as they glisten with your honeyed slick.

sucking in a breath through your front teeth in the form of a hiss, you and namjoon lock eyes in the overhead mirror, and it makes you gasp when his free hand slaps at your clit, palm hitting repetitively until you squirm.

"joon, joonie, i'm sorry, baby," you whine and hiccup, closing your legs over his hand, leaving it between your thighs that spasm from the sensitivity of your clit. but you forget namjoon's strong, easily able to get himself out of it by nudging them apart with his elbow as if it was nothing.

"hold them the fuck open. stop playing with me," he speaks and it's so mean but nonetheless has you growing wetter and wetter with each passing moment.

you put your forearms underneath the backs over your knees, toes curling when they press up against the seats up front. so undeniably spread open that it's degrading.

simultaneously, your fingers resume their thumbing at your pussy, tips catching at your entrance before dipping in, making room for the thickness of namjoon's dick that's soon to come.

the squelching is obscene, loud over joji's 'night rider.' your pussy talks, singing along to the beat that plays lowly through the speakers. you wish you could block out the sound, finding it embarrassing as is.

the pace you build up is slow but ever so needy, clenching around your digits and they drag in and out before scissoring, stretching it out. but you need more, need to feel namjoon. have him inside you.

so you beg, plead, "please, joon. touch me, please. i'm so sorry." tears run down your face, eyeliner dripping already because you've never been able to handle what you dish out, and namjoon finds it funny. the irony.

the way you're so quick to break, being so apologetic and sweet when beforehand you were nothing close. again, namjoon can't help but laugh.

"you already crying?" and in response, you nod your head, still fucking yourself as you spew. "i'm so sorry. i-i didn't mean it."

his hand finds home between your legs and you think he's gonna slip his fingers in but are sadly mistaken when another forceful slap is laid to your cunt. "shut up. i don't want to hear any of that shit. you wanted this so deal with it."

"but—"

he cuts you off before you can get the rest of your words out. "but nothing. hush." by then, he's already pulling into the garage, car being placed in park.

but when he goes to step out, he merely uses the control gears on the side of the seat to maneuver it closer to the steering wheel, providing more space for him to join you in the backseat.

when he rounds the trunk of the blacked out audi, pushing himself into the seat behind the passenger's side, he's pulling you to him, legs dangling off the side of his wide shoulders. "been acting up all day," he mumbles, lips puckering up but they don't meet the ones north. they trail downward, latching onto your clit, sucking so that he can feel it rub against his tongue.

you moan, back arching against the coolness of his dark interior, hands trying to clutch onto him, to push or pull, give some sort of relief to the emptiness of you but he's grabbing your wrists, pinning them to your stomach. "you don't get to touch me," he speaks, the breath from his words battering up against your core, leaving you shaky and defenseless.

he licks a stripe before spitting, messy in the way he eats because he wants you dripping, easy enough to slide in and out of without working up a sweat. namjoon plans on wrecking your shit, leave you walking funny for days, a reminder that pretty girls don't cry when they get what they deserve.

you have no choice but to sit there and feel him spit, suck, lick, repeat, over and over again, the sound of his smacking and you gushing loud in your ears until your muscles flex, ankles crossing over one another behind namjoon's necks, the heels of your feet digging into his back.

"stay right there. please, please, please," you cry, hands thrashing in his unrelenting hold and best believe your pleas aren't anywhere near quiet. it has him bringing his free hand up to your mouth, middle and ring fingers tapping on your glossy lips.

you know what he wants, so like the good girl you're trying so hard to be, you open, letting the pads of his fingertips rest heavily on your tongue before you're wrapping your lips around them, tongue swirling around the length of them as a welcome.

he's momentarily given you a reason to shut up, fucking your mouth with his fingers whilst he eats your pussy like it's the last supper. namjoon has always found pleasure in pleasuring you, loving the way you tasted like honey on his tongue, the way your moans would pull him in like a siren would a sailor. it was a danger, the way you had him wrapped around your little finger.

your thighs tighten around his head in which he's blind to, the sharp strands of his buzz cut poking at the sensitive skin there but still, he never lets up his tongue's dipping into your entrance, licking into your gummy walls that clench as you near your orgasm.

you twitch, gargle around his fingers that press to the back of your throat until you're drooling, unable to speak. but you try, incoherent babbling mixing with the sound of namjoon between your legs.

when your spasms grow quicker, he's forced to let go of your wrists, palm striking down onto your hips that rut on his face, dragging your clit up and down his nose, and it's all too much. way too much. so involuntarily, you're stopped, body pausing in the shock of your orgasm that wrecks through you without warning.

"did i tell you to fuckin' stop? keep going," he spits, spanking your ass and urging your forward, drinking up every bit that pours from you.

the way you bunch up his jacket in tight fists is endearing, almost getting namjoon to reach up and smash his lips onto yours but he stops himself, keeps up his hard exterior because he knows he needs to put you in your place. learn your lesson.

"so good, joon. right there," you whine, head thrown back as he cleans you up with his tongue, lapping up any left over so that he can slide your underwear and skirt back into your lower half before bringing your face up to his with a grounding grip onto the column of your neck.

his lips hover over your own, practically daring you to kiss him. you know better though. his mean gaze on you says that you're in for a real treat, so you wait for him to speak, too scared to break the silence that blankets you.

"you've been out of line ever since you woke the hell up. i'm tired of you acting like you don't know shit."

"but i apologized," you say, eyes round and compliant as you look at him. you're a complete 180 of how you acted this morning. now docile in the way you shrink under his gaze.

his palm smacks against your cheek, stinging hotly but it adds fuel to the fire, makes your stomach full with butterflies. "mhm, but you don't mean it. just saying what you know i want to hear." namjoon's tugging you, putting his muscles to work as they sit you upright. "get out."

he's opening the door, ducking down in order to push himself out of the frame, and he doesn't look back because he knows you'll follow, making sure to press down on the lock button situated on his keys once he hears the shut of the car door.

your hair is messy, matting up in the back because of the friction between the strands and the fabric of the car seats. the wobbliness of your legs lead to the stairs, walking past the threshold and into your home in which namjoon holds the door and waits for you to get in just before gathering the thick strands at the back of your head, using it as leverage to urge you deeper into the home.

you gasp at his handling, his chest clung to your back as he pushes and pulls. you can't help but bring your hand up to his, clutching onto his wrist to try and ease his grip.

his breath is hot on your ear, whispering right into it as he bends forward to meet your level, ass pressed against his upper thighs while the growing bulge in his joggers swells. "by the time i get up those steps, you better be just how i want you."

and you bolt, quick to kick your chunky shoes from your feet and pull the jacket from your arms, left in a little skirt and an oversized soccer jersey, though you don't get time to dwell before rushing to take it all off, left bare save for the pink set of your bra and panties. the thickness of your curls resting at your shoulders.

heavy feet fall onto wooden flooring of the hall, partly creaky, or maybe it was the sound of your heart thumping in your ears. namjoon makes his way closer to your shared bedroom, his own outwear discarded and now left in a white tank and his bottoms.

your eyes are round and glassy when you look at him, regret all over your features because you know you're in for it. the way he rounds the bed to sit at the side of it before beckoning you over to him with the simple gesture of his fingers.

he wrangles you over his lap, right arm wrapping around your waist to keep you in place while his left hand rubs at the smooth skin of your ass before striking down, the smack so hard that it has you yelping.

"y'so pretty baby but act so fuckin' bad," he speaks, unwavering when he continues to reprimand you. "make it so hard for me."

“you know i hate seeing you cry.”

you call out for him, grabbing onto his calves for stability, thighs shaking in delicious pain because while it hurts, it feels so good, adding to the slick between your legs. the tears begin to run for the third time in the last half an hour, hands going to push at his but you're being stopped with the one along your waist, pinning your wrists to your lower back.

"you've done enough. be a good girl, would you," he questions but doesn't wait for an answer. "'s exactly why you're in this predicament now." ass perched up while he spanks it raw.

his hits are rough and repeated, taking the time in between to massage them just to take that momentary relief away once more at the bat of an eye. he even slides his finger between your folds to pick up a little bit of your wetness so that he can smear it across your ass.

namjoon's hungrily listening to every whine and scream that he draws from you, his cock unbearably stiff within his boxers, tip leaky and with a pinkened blushed undertone from its neglect.

it's only when he's done with you that he brings it to attention, pulling at the back of your hair to pull your face up level to his, eyeliner dyed tears streaming down your cheeks and he coos, kissing your forehead, but still, never touches your lips.

he knows you need it, the way your eyes are cloudy, waiting for him to get you exactly where it's easy to break to down: giggly and ever so moldable. pushing down your more bratty side and swapping it out for the good girl.

so he places you on the bed, sits you in his previous position whilst he rids himself of his clothes. chest and below bare and tanned with the small ribbon bow tattoo that represents you resting on his left pec, kneeling down just enough so that he can unclamp your bra and discard your panties before pursing his lips to leave a glob of spit catching onto your entrance, adding to your already drenched cunt.

"needed me, baby? you needed me to fill you up to put you in a better mood," he questions. “all you had to do was ask. you’on need to do the extra shit.” bringing a hand to his cock to jerk, standing back to his feet to drag his tip from your clit to the strip of skin just above your puckered hole. he just just keeps doing it, back and forth, up and down, until your grow restless, quivering, advancing to wrap your legs around his hips to bring him closer.

but namjoon easily slides into you and presses his palms to the backs of your knees, pushing so that they rest at either side of your head so that you’re completely folded.

the stretch hurts, makes you vulnerable and at the hands of his mercy but you wouldn't want it any other way, laying the future of your orgasm in his hold because you know he'll cater to you in every way possible.

his hips rut, pelvis to pelvis, heavy balls pressed to the swell of your ass as he digs deeper. and your pussy spasms, hugging him, sucking him in like a whirlpool. it makes namjoon lay his weight onto your chest, picking up his pace.

“slow down,” you whine, lips parted with your head thrown back, he takes one hand from your leg to wrap around your throat, bringing your attention onto him. maintaining gut-churning eye-contact.

"take this shit," he speaks, harsh and cruel. staring into your eyes and it makes you want to shrivel up. "been fuckin' with me all day so take this shit."

“d-didn’t mean to.”

he drops his hips a hurried slam, pounding into you like you owed him something. it was unrelenting. forceful. upon the impact of his dick sliding into you, your body jerks up higher onto the bed.

“mm, look at you. be actin’ all tough in public but as soon as you get on this dick, you go silent.”

leaning over, namjoon puts his thumb onto your bottom lip, sliding it between so that he can pry open your jaw, getting your mouth wide enough so that he can spit directly into your mouth but some inevitably falls onto your cheeks and he seals, smearing it, berry lip gloss smudging while your skin stings.

he laughs in your face, finding you to be the prettiest thing. even when you’re absolutely wrecked. pussy pulsing, titties bouncing, tummy folding, and knees resting beside your head.

“you boutta cream on me,” he asks when he feels you tighten and you nod, spent on the feeling of him splitting you open with a smile on his face. “this your shit. just go ‘head.” namjoon continues to dog you out, watching as the familiar white ring coats his dick at the base and he loves the sight.

before you get the chance to come down from the high of it all, namjoon’s taking matters into his own hands and is once again repositioning you as if it were nothing. the swiftness of it gives you whiplash. he's strong without reason, makes it entirely too easy to turn you to lay on your chest in the middle of the bed, arms behind your back whilst your ass points up, arched impossibly low that it strains your spine.

his palm is pressed to your cheek, pushing your head down into the mattress. one knee to the plush of the bedding while the other is bent with his foot flat as he thrusts entirely too deep.

it's hard hearing the soppiness of you taking him in, hearing your pussy talking back, pleading to take it easy because he's being so rough and you can barely keep up. he leaves you gaping when he pulls out and kisses your clit to see it jump just to push back in with fervor afterward.

with your face forced onto its side, watching through the mirror of your vanity as namjoon loses himself in your warmth, thrusts growing sloppy and straying away from its pattern, you blindly reach behind you, feeling the weight of his dick drilling into you.

"move your hand," he speaks sternly, calling you by name and its grounding. but you can't bring yourself to do it, trying your hardest to intercept his pace by pressing down onto his lower stomach. pretty nails dragging down the skin.

"i can't, joon," you plead, eyes rolling to the back of your head, toes curling. "god, it's too much." you involuntarily break your arch, back hunching, going to stand onto your knees to get namjoon to let up but he doesn’t let you.

pressing down on your back, moving your hand himself and pulling your hips up to get you right back into position he wants you, namjoon isn’t one for mercy as he digs back in. "nah, don't run from it.” he lays a heavy smack to your ass, watching as the flesh jiggles, so he does it again.

and again. and again. and again.

“fuck me back, baby.” he knows you’re gone when you do as he says without hesitation, smiling to himself as he feels his own toes curl. “yeah, you got it. fuck…keep goin’.”

and just like that, you’re back to your old ways. taking everything that he has to offer. throwing your ass back onto him to meet his thrusts. it has him reaching a hand down to pinch and roll your clit between two fingers, building you up so that you’ll be milking him in no time.

“all you wanted. this is all you wanted. you know daddy’s got you, baby,

a few more plunges in and you’re fluttering, cream flowing out of you, running down your thighs, and that causes a ripple effect on namjoon, his balls constricting as he paints your walls white.

and when you shake so much that you're one step away from sliding off the bed, namjoon chuckles before holding onto you tight, laying his sticky chest into your back and grabs the side of your face to smack his lips to yours.

The restaurant is the most Instagrammable place you've ever seen, and you would have gotten there faster if your roommate hadn't been in desperate need of moral support over a situationship. You see Jungkook look up at you the second you enter his peripheral vision.

"Finally," Taehyung says.

"Sorry, sorry." You slide into the booth, and there's only one spot left, wedged between Jimin and the wall, directly across from Jungkook. "Emergency friend duties."

"More important than us?" Hobi asks.

"You'll live," you say, but you're not paying attention because Jungkook is still staring at you. Your eyes meet. He doesn't look away. Your stomach flips, and you wonder if you should have done this another day because emotional rollercoasters don't sound like a great idea on an empty stomach.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," you say back.

A few minutes later, the drinks and the banchan arrive. Jungkook is laughing at something Taehyung is saying, beer in hand, but he keeps glancing at you every time you reach for the banchan. You don't notice as you are trying your best to separate the stack of perilla leaves.

"Oh my God," you mutter, trying to separate them with your chopsticks. "Why are they like this?"

"Here," Jimin says, and his chopsticks slide in from your left, holding the stack steady while you pull one free.

"Thank you," you breathe, relieved, and you don't see the way Jungkook's knuckles go white around his glass.

You look up, and Jungkook is staring at Jimin, and it's nothing like the soft, longing looks he's been throwing your way all night. Jimin, oblivious, or perhaps not, hums as he sets the separated leaves on your plate.

"Jungkook-ah," Namjoon says from across the table. "Pass the garlic?"

Jungkook passes it without looking up.That's when you realize he's staring at the perilla leaves.

Oh.

Oh no.

You know about the perilla leaf debate. Everyone knows about the perilla leaf debate. It's a stupid thing where people argue whether it's okay to help someone else's partner separate their perilla leaves, whether it crosses a line, or not. Usually, usually, it's just internet debates and topics for variety shows.

Jungkook, however, looks like he's about to flip the table.

"So," Jimin says, "how's work been? Did you finish that powerpoint presentation?"

"Yeah, finally," you start to say, but Jungkook cuts in.

"She finished it yesterday," he says, pouring soju into your glass without asking.

Jimin's eyebrows lift. "Did she?"

"Mhm. She texted me at three in the morning," Jungkook says.

Namjoon looks up from his phone. Hobi pauses with his mouth full.

"Jungkook, that's not-" you say, blushing.

"Do you want some meat?" he asks instead, grabbing the kitchen scissors and carefully cutting the grilled pork belly into bite-sized pieces before placing them on your plate.

"Thanks..." you say slowly.

Jimin watches with his head tilted. He looks between you and Jungkook, then back to the perilla leaves.

"Ah," Jimin says softly.

"Ah what?" Taehyung asks.

"Nothing," Jimin says with a grin. He reaches for the perilla leaves again. "Do you want another one? These are really good." His chopsticks hover over the stack.

Jungkook's chopsticks hit his plate with a clatter.

"You don't have to. I'll do it," Jungkook says quickly.

"It's fine," Jimin says sweetly, separating another leaf. "I don't mind."

"I said," Jungkook replies, enunciating each word, "I'll do it."

He takes the leaf from Jimin's chopsticks and places it on your plate himself. Then he looks at Jimin with an expression that makes your stomach flip.

"Jungkook..." you say quietly.

"Eat," he tells you, looking at you with those soft eyes that could kill you.

Jimin leans back, studying Jungkook.

"What is it?" Hobi asks, looking between them.

"Just... perilla leaves," Jimin says. "You know the debate, right? Whether it's okay to help someone else's person with their leaves?"

The table goes absolutely silent and you want to disappear into the floor.

"Guys, seriously, it's not-"

"Some people think it's too intimate," Jimin continues, looking at Jungkook.

"And what do you think?" you ask.

Jimin shrugs playfully. "I think intention matters."

"What's your intention?" Jungkook asks.

Jimin holds his gaze for a long moment. Then he laughs, breaking the tension, and reaches over to pat Jungkook on the shoulder.

"Relax, maknae. I'm just teasing."

The rest of dinner passes quickly. Every time Jimin speaks to you, Jungkook finds a reason to touch you or get your attention. For the first time, it's not meant to be subtle. It's almost like a competition to see who hands you your coat when you leave or who walks closest to you on the way out.

Everyone agrees to walk to the Han River, grab some ice cream from a convenience store, and sit on the benches by the water. None of you are ready to go home yet.

You hang back, letting the others drift ahead. Jungkook stays beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"You didn't have to do that," you say quietly.

"Do what?"

"Mark your territory."

He stops walking. You stop too, turning to face him.

"Is that what you think I was doing?" he asks.

"I don't know what you were doing, Jungkook. You acted like Jimin committed a crime by helping me with dinner."

He looks away. "You don't get it."

"Then explain it to me."

"The perilla leaf thing is stupid. I know it's stupid. But...I always want to be the one helping you. And I know I don't have the right to feel like that, but I do."

"Jungkook..." you say softly, trying to get him to look at you.

"Don't say whatever you're going to say. Let me just... let me have this one moment where I pretend it's okay that I feel this way, even though I'm your friend and I'm supposed to just be cool with Jimin flirting with you."

"He wasn't flirting."

"He was," Jungkook insists, finally looking at you. "Maybe he didn't mean it like that, but he was, and I hated it. I hated it so much. I wanted to be the one helping you, even with something as stupid as perilla leaves."

"You know," you say softly, "you could have just said something instead of starting a silent war at the dinner table."

"I don't know how to say things," he admits. "I only know how to... want... from a distance."

"That's the problem," you say as you reach out, your fingers finding his. His hand relaxes, and he threads his fingers through yours. "You think you're being subtle, but you're not. Everyone at that table knows exactly what's happening."

"Did you?"

"Yeah." You smile. "I know... and I think I've been waiting for you to help me with my perilla leaves for a pretty long time now."

"Don't joke."

"I'm not joking."

"Jimin was testing you, Kook."

"Testing me?"

"Yeah. He was messing with you. It was so obvious he was challenging you. He wanted to see if you'd finally do something about it." You smile. "He's not stupid. He saw it before either of us did."

Jungkook groans. "So I played right into his hands."

"And you were very dramatic about it," you say with a sigh.

"Shut up," he says, smiling.

"I liked it. I really like it when you stop being quiet about wanting."

He takes another small step closer. "So... can I help you with your perilla leaves next time?"

"Only if you're not doing it just to be polite."

He smiles nervously "I'm doing it because I want to be the person you reach for."

You look at him, at the tiny chocolate-chip mole beneath his lip that you've wanted to kiss for months.

Then you do.

You have to.

He's standing there with his heart in his hands, offering it to you like it's nothing.

His hands come up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing softly along your jaw as he kisses you back.

When you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours.

"Does this mean I won the war?" he asks, breathless.

"You were the only one fighting it, you idiot," you laugh, giving his chest a light shove. "Jimin wasn't actually interested. He has a crush on the barista at his coffee shop."

Jungkook blinks. "What?"

"Namjoon told me last week."

He stares at you, dropping his head to your shoulder. "I made a fool of myself for nothing."

"Not for nothing," you say, running your fingers gently through his soft hair. "You finally stopped being quiet."

He lifts his head.

"I can be loud," he says. "If you want. About this, about you."

"Show me."

"Gladly."

And he does. He kisses you again, deeper this time, and you smile against his lips.

Then Taehyung's voice carries over from farther up the path.

"Finally! Took you long enough!"

You laugh into his mouth and pull him even closer.

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tysm for reading! <3 divider