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 late afternoon sun in Ilsan is softer than you expected, casting a warm, honey-colored glow over the quiet neighborhood streets. Holding an iced latte in one hand, you take your time adjusting to the slower pace of your new home. Moving here was supposed to be a fresh start, a break from the relentless, high-speed blur of Seoul. So far, the quiet avenues and tree-lined sidewalks are delivering exactly what you needed.

As you round a particularly peaceful corner, the faint, comforting scent of roasted coffee beans and aged paper drifts through the air. You look up, your eyes catching a charming storefront. The exterior is a deep, muted charcoal, framed by large glass windows that show floor-to-ceiling wooden bookshelves packed tightly with literature. Above the door, a sleek, minimalist sign reads: The Archive.

A small, brass bell chimes softly as you push the door open, stepping out of the spring warmth and into the cool, air-conditioned sanctuary.

The atmosphere instantly wraps around you like a heavy, expensive blanket. Low, mellow R&B hums faintly from a speaker hidden somewhere in the room, the bassline thumping gently against the wooden floorboards. The shop is a beautiful blend of old-world charm and modern sophistication minimalist aesthetics done perfectly. Monochromatic art prints hang on the walls, and sleek leather armchairs are tucked into cozy corners, illuminated by the warm glow of vintage banker's lamps.

"Welcome in," a deep, velvety voice calls out from behind the counter.

You turn your head, and your breath hitches slightly in your throat.

Standing behind a massive oak service desk is a man who looks less like a standard shopkeeper and more like a high-end editorial model. He is tall—intimidatingly so—with broad, solid shoulders that stretch the fabric of a simple, fitted charcoal grey sweater. His hair is a sharp, platinum-blonde buzzcut that highlights the striking symmetry of his features—defined high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and full, plush lips. The close-cropped cut gives him a rugged, effortless edge, contrasted beautifully by the pair of clear, silver-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his straight nose.

He looks up from a heavy leather ledger, his dark eyes locking onto yours. The moment your gazes meet, a dimple deepens on his left cheek, softening his imposing silhouette into something profoundly warm and welcoming.

"Let me know if you’re looking for anything specific," he says, his voice a low, soothing baritone that sends a sudden, unexpected shiver straight down your spine. "Or feel free to just wander."

"Thank you," you manage to say, offering a polite smile as you try to master your sudden spike in pulse. "I’m actually new to the area. Just exploring."

His eyebrows raise slightly behind his frames, his interest clearly piqued. "New to Ilsan? Welcome. It’s a beautiful city. I’m Namjoon."

"Y/N," you reply, the name feeling intimate coming right after his.

"Well, Y/N," Namjoon says, leaning his forearms against the counter, the movement flexing the broad muscles of his back. "Take your time. We have a bit of everything here. If you need a recommendation based on what you usually like, don't hesitate to ask."

You nod, turning on your heel to mask the heat rising to your cheeks. You guide yourself into the labyrinth of tall bookshelves, the scent of vanilla and old parchment grounding you. As you walk, your fingers trace the spines of the books. You can hear the faint, methodical sound of Namjoon turning pages back at the counter, the rhythm oddly comforting.

You drift deeper into the store, eventually finding yourself in a secluded section tucked away at the very back. A sign overhead reads Rare Editions & Poetry. The lighting here is dimmer, more intimate, shielded from the front windows by massive, double-sided bookshelves.

Your eyes scan the shelves until they land on a slim, leather-bound volume of classic poetry. You reach up, but the book is perched just a bit too high on the top shelf. You stretch onto your tiptoes, your fingertips barely brushing the edge of the spine.

Suddenly, a warm, massive presence materializes directly behind you.

Before you can even turn around, a large, broad hand with long, elegant fingers reaches up effortlessly over your shoulder. The solid expanse of a chest presses lightly against your back, the sheer heat radiating from his body instantly enveloping you. The scent of him—expensive cedarwood, clean linen, and a hint of rich coffee—fills your senses, making you dizzy.

Namjoon slides the book smoothly from the shelf. He doesn't step back immediately. Instead, he lingers, his tall frame completely shadowing yours in the narrow aisle.

"This is a beautiful choice," Namjoon murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating directly against the back of your neck. "One of my personal favorites."

You slowly turn around within the tight space he’s trapped you in. Your back presses against the sturdy wooden bookshelf behind you, and you look up. Without the counter between you, his height is staggering. He has taken off his glasses, tucking them into the collar of his sweater, and his dark eyes are incredibly intense. The short blonde buzzcut makes his gaze feel even more direct, completely framing his face with a bold, masculine intensity that makes your knees feel weak.

"Is it?" you whisper, your voice suddenly breathless. The playful, confident edge you usually carry is entirely compromised by how commanding he looks standing over you.

"Mm," Namjoon hums, stepping a fraction closer. His thighs brush against yours, a deliberate, burning contact. He holds the book between you, his long fingers tapping rhythmically against the leather cover. "The imagery is incredibly sensual. It’s all about longing. About wanting something so intensely that it consumes you."

The air between you grows thick, charged with a sudden, electric tension. The low R&B track playing in the front of the shop feels miles away now, drowned out by the heavy thudding of your heart. Namjoon’s gaze drops to your lips, his own parting slightly as his breath hitches.

"You look beautiful in this light, Y/N," he says softly, his candor direct and completely devoid of hesitation. "To be honest, I haven't been able to focus on my book since you walked in."

A bold, thrilling wave of desire washes over you, melting away your initial nervousness. You look up at him through your lashes, leaning just a fraction closer to his chest. "And here I thought you were just being a helpful store owner."

A low, dark chuckle rumbles in Namjoon’s chest. He places the book down on a nearby ledge without breaking eye contact. "I am the owner. Which means I can decide exactly when the shop closes for the evening."

Before you can process his words, Namjoon reaches past you and flips a small latch on the side of the bookshelf. A hidden panel clicks, and with a gentle push, a section of the wall swings inward, revealing a sleek, dimly lit private office.

Namjoon guides you inside by the small of your back, his touch firm and possessive. He closes the door behind you, locking it with a quiet click that seals the two of you away from the rest of the world.

The office is beautiful—minimalist, dark, and incredibly plush. A large, dark mahogany desk sits in the center, and a leather sofa lines the back wall under a single, glowing amber sconce.

Namjoon turns to you, his entire demeanor shifting from the intellectual, polite bookstore owner to someone entirely consumed by desire. He doesn't waste another second. He steps into your space, his large hands coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs wiping across your cheekbones with surprising gentleness before his lips descend onto yours.

The kiss is deep, bruising, and fiercely demanding.

You gasp into his mouth, and Namjoon takes full advantage, his tongue sliding past your lips to claim yours in a slow, heavy rhythm that matches the bassline filtering through the walls. You wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers brushing against the soft prickle of his blonde buzzcut as you pull yourself flush against him. He groans, his hands sliding down your neck, over your shoulders, and gripping your waist with a strength that makes you whimper.

He pulls back just an inch, his lips wet and flushed, his breathing ragged. "I’ve been thinking about doing this since you smiled at me at the counter," he murmurs against your skin, his lips tracing down your jawline to press hot, lingering kisses against the sensitive pulse point of your neck.

"Namjoon," you breathe out, your fingers tangling along the short, textured sides of his hair, pulling him closer.

He lifts you effortlessly, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his broad waist. He carries you the short distance to his desk, clearing a stack of papers with one sweep of his arm before setting you down on the edge of the smooth, dark wood. He steps between your thighs, pushing your skirt up your legs, his large palms hot against your bare skin.

"You are so soft," he groans, his dark eyes looking up at you with an intensity that burns. He reaches for the hem of your top, lifting it over your head and tossing it aside, leaving you in just your lace bra. Namjoon takes a step back, his eyes slowly sweeping over your form, appreciating every curve with unadulterated reverence. "Absolutely exquisite."

The heat in his gaze makes you feel entirely exposed yet incredibly powerful. You reach forward, your fingers catching the hem of his charcoal sweater. "Take it off," you command softly.

A dimple flashes briefly before Namjoon pulls the sweater over his head, discarding it on the floor. Underneath, his body is breathtaking—sculpted, broad chest, deeply defined abdominal muscles, and strong arms mapped with faint veins. You reach out, your palms pressing against his chest, feeling the rapid, heavy thud of his heart.

Namjoon leans back in, his hands finding the clasp of your bra and releasing it with practiced ease. He catches your lips in another searing kiss while his hands cup your breasts, his long fingers kneading the soft flesh before his thumbs begin to stroke your nipples. A sharp, high whine catches in your throat, your head tilting back as a wave of intense pleasure coils deep in your stomach.

He shifts his attention downward, his lips following the path of his hands. He drops to his knees between your open thighs, his hands gripping your hips, anchoring you to the edge of the desk.

"Namjoon, wait—" you gasp out as you realize what he’s about to do.

"Let me taste you, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice thick and dripping with promise. "Let me welcome you to the neighborhood properly."

He slides your underwear down your legs, tossing them away. Slowly, deliberately, he presses your thighs wider apart, opening you up completely to his gaze. You flush, but before you can feel self-conscious, Namjoon leans forward, his hot breath fanning against your inner thigh, making you tremble.

When his tongue makes first contact, your fingers instantly fly to the edge of the mahogany desk, gripping the wood so hard your knuckles turn white.

Namjoon is meticulous. He uses his tongue in broad, wet strokes, painting your sensitive flesh before focusing entirely on your clit. He sucks it gently into his mouth, his tongue swirling in a relentless, agonizingly perfect rhythm. You writhe against the desk, your hips lifting into his mouth instinctively as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you.

"Namjoon, please," you cry out, your voice echoing softly in the quiet room.

He hums against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pure electricity straight through your core. He slides two long fingers inside your slick warmth, pumping them deeply while his mouth continues its ruthless assault. The combination is too much. Your breath hitches, your vision blurring as your walls tighten around his fingers. You arch your back, a loud, uninhibited moan ripping from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you in violent, beautiful waves.

Namjoon stays with you through every single pulse, drinking you in until your trembling slowly begins to subside.

He stands up slowly, his face flushed, a wet sheen on his lips that makes him look completely undone. His dark eyes are wild with a primal hunger as he quickly unbuttons his trousers, pushing them down along with his boxers. When he frees himself, you take a sharp breath—he is thick, heavy, and fully aroused, glistening in the dim amber light.

He reaches into his desk drawer, pulling out a small foil packet. With trembling but efficient hands, he tears it open and rolls the protection over his length.

He steps back between your legs, lifting your knees to rest over his broad shoulders, opening you up completely. He rests the blunt tip of his length against your soaking entrance, pausing for just a fraction of a second to look deep into your eyes.

"Look at me, Y/N," he commands softly, his voice thick.

You lock your eyes onto his, your breath catching as Namjoon slowly, steadily pushes himself inside you.

The sheer size of him stretches you completely, filling you to the absolute brim. You let out a long, shaky sigh, your hands moving to grip his bicep and shoulder as he bottoms out against your core, holding himself still for a moment to let you adjust to his depth.

"You fit me so perfectly," he whispers, a low growl tearing from his throat.

He begins to move. He pulls out almost completely before driving back in, a slow, agonizingly deep rhythm that makes you lose all sense of time and space. The smooth mahogany desk clicks faintly with each of his powerful thrusts. Namjoon leans forward, pinning your hands to the desk beside your head, his chest pressing down against yours as his pace begins to quicken.

The friction is incredible. Every drive of his hips hits your sweet spot with unerring accuracy. You throw your head back, your moans filling the office, entirely untamed. Namjoon loses his restraint entirely at the sound of your pleasure. His thrusts become harder, faster, his broad hips slamming against yours with a desperate, heavy urgency.

"Namjoon, I’m—I’m going again," you sob out, the tension building so rapidly you can barely breathe.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he pants, his voice raw and breathless against your ear. "Let me feel it."

He delivers three more incredibly deep, hard thrusts. Your internal walls clamp down tightly around him as a second, even more intense orgasm rips through your body. The sheer sensation sends Namjoon over the edge. He lets out a loud, guttural groan, his eyes closing tight as he drives into you one last, deep time, his body shaking violently as he releases his heat inside the protection.

He holds himself deep inside you for a long moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder as both of your chests heave, trying to catch your breath.

The quiet R&B music from the front of the shop finally filters back into your awareness, a smooth, slow melody that matches the peaceful afterglow settling over the room.

Slowly, Namjoon pulls out of you with a soft sigh. He takes care of the protection, disposing of it quickly before retrieving a clean cloth from a small restroom attached to the office. He gently cleans you up, his movements incredibly tender and devoid of any rush, his dimple reappearing as he catches you watching him with sleepy, content eyes.

He pulls a soft, oversized linen button-down shirt from a hanger in his closet and gently helps you slide your arms into it, buttoning it up halfway. He then pulls on his own trousers, leaving his chest bare as he sits down on the edge of the desk right next to you.

He pulls you into his side, his large arm wrapping securely around your waist, drawing you into his warmth. You rest your head against his solid chest, listening to the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat.

"So," Namjoon murmurs softly, his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on your bare thigh where the shirt rides up. "How are you liking your new neighborhood so far?"

A soft laugh escapes your lips, and you look up at him, a bright, genuine smile spreading across your face.

"I think," you say, reaching up to gently tap his dimpled cheek, "I’m going to love living here."

☾ ˚ ₊ ˚ ⊹ ₊ ˚ ⊹ * ˚ ₊ ☾

Banner credits: @seokbite 🫧

Now that im lookin' at em, these could be phone wallpapers.. so have at em ig

Completely grayscale version cos why not

You hummed in response, attempting to flaunt the new outfit you'd bought earlier today. It was the perfect blend of teasingly tight and Namjoons favorite colors. It was a combination that on most days would cause his eyes to burn right through the fabric, but with Jungkooks stupid competition you knew better than to hope.

"Bought it just for you." Walking over to him, you brought his hand up to your waist, guiding it over the smooth fabric with a smirk.

It wasn't hard to notice the hitch in his breath, the sudden quickness in how his chest rose. Part of it was laughable, you could tell there was a battle happening behind his eyes. His hand quickly started following its own path. It felt like hours, standing there as his hands trailed your body with seemingly no intention, your nerves on fire.

"I know." He whispered after an eon, leaning in closer to you. "Such a shame." You could practically feel the smirk on his face, hardly able to see it by how close he was to you now.

"A shame?" Your lips brushed against his as you spoke, causing his balance to falter for a moment.

Namjoon stood frozen. It was obvious that he was starting to lose his train of thought, all focus starting to lend itself to just giving into you. The pause was almost painful before he came back, taking the slightest step away from you to regain his composure.

"Truly a shame." There was an attempt at cockiness in his voice, failing with the slight crack in his voice. "I'm not losing, no matter how badly you want me right now baby."

Oh. That's how he's playing this. Trying to make you the desperate one. He had you, for a fleeting moment. The gentle touches, the tense feeling in the air making your chest tight. But that was apart of the game, make it so you're the one so he doesn't lose. That small power trip that keeps him in control enough to remain. Well. Two can play at that game, can't they?

You raised your hands to his shoulders, gently massaging them before trailing down his biceps. The light touches causing him to shake for a moment. You attempted your best at a borderline dramatic pout while looking up at him.

"But I got all pretty and everything." Namjoons muscles tensed under your fingertips at your words. "Wanted you to do so much to me baby." You had to fight the smile wanting to break on your lips at the very audible gulp he let out.

"Yeah?" He whispered, voice much lower than before.

"Mhm." You nodded, leaning closer to him before speaking. "Canceled my morning plans too. In case we got a little, rough, ya know?"

He didn't reply. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head at every possible scenario. His breath was quick, hitting your skin with the proximity. The hand that had stuck on your waist tightened slightly before completely falling away.

"Oh well." You mumbled, leaning up slightly to place a soft kiss against his lips before pulling away, your own hands dropping from his arms as you turn to walk away. "It can wait I guess."

You couldn't see him, or hear him as you walked away. Not being able to hear Namjoon at any point in time is typically a concerning fact. Thankfully it didn't take long until heavy footsteps started behind you. Before you could react you felt him right behind you.

One arm wrapped around your waist as the other slid behind your knees. Within a moments notice you were suddenly flush against Namjoons chest as his legs kept moving. The shriek you let out seemed to make him laugh for a moment as your entire body shook from the movement.

"Namjoon!" You yelled, wrapping your arms around his neck to secure yourself. "What the fuck!"

"You and I both knew that would work on me." He said with a wide smirk, clumsiness making an appearance as he almost slipped on the slightly bunched up rug leading to his room. A whispered curse left him as he paused, straightening back up moments later before the sly look came back. "You're good baby."

"So I won?" You smiled, faltering slightly as you found yourself being lowered onto the soft mattress.

"You were going to from the start." He laughed as he made his way onto the bed, sweatpants bunching awkwardly as he crawled towards you.

He was hovering above you, eyes bouncing between your own and the fabric holding your chest in place inches below. You managed to break him out of it by bringing your hand up to the back of his neck and pulling him down to your lips. Namjoon reciprocated instantly, his lips meshing with yours and creating the pace.

"So-" You started, pulling away for a second to catch your breath. "What about the competition?"