Domestic Fluff. Married Couple Nanami X Fem!reader. Talks Of Aging, Death And Grief Suggestive Humor

domestic fluff. married couple nanami x fem!reader. ⚠︎ talks of aging, death and grief ⚠︎ suggestive humor and dialogue. 

nanami kento is graying

You realize it as he lays his head on your lap and you thread your fingers through his soft, fluffy hair. His strands fade into a lighter shade near the roots, a gradient from gold to gray. 

“Oh no,” you sigh. “You're turning into a sexy silver fox.”

“Pardon?” He replies.

“You're graying. Have you noticed?”

“Ah. I never really paid attention. I was more worried about balding.” 

“I think I prefer that,” you say lightly, as you glide your fingers through his scalp. “At least I’d have less competition.”

“Competition,” he laughs. “Woman, you're my wife.” 

“I know that!” you laugh as well. “But once you’ve gone full gray it's fisticuffs between me and all the GILF-chasers.”  

“What is a G—you know what, don't answer that.” 

You settle into comfortable silence, alone in the house you've built together. How long has it been since he swept you off your feet and carried you into this life? Time has compressed all of your moments into a montage of routine domestic bliss. In the decades you’ve been married to each other, you've woken up and slept next to him for thousands of nights and days. You've held his hand and kissed his lips, embraced him and made love to him countless times. 

And it's ironic, actually, that because of how close and intimately aware you were of each other's bodies, you never noticed those tiny increments of change that come with age. 

His eyes flutter shut and your fingers wander towards his face. What else about him has changed? You brush against the faint gray hairs on his brow, the wrinkles around his eyes—lines that converge to his outer corners and curve under the bags of his eyes. You love the way it deepens when he smiles. And maybe that's why you've never seen those wrinkles as a sign of aging. Seeing your husband’s wrinkles is a sign of his joy.

“We're growing old together…” he sighs. 

“You said it like it's a bad thing.” 

“It's not. It's just a matter of fact. I'm happy that we lasted this long.”

You know that tone in his voice. 

“But?” you asked.

“I guess, sometimes, I can't help but question what it really means to grow old with someone,” he says. “Back then I was scared of dying on the job and leaving you alone all of a sudden. But now… what about if I grow ill? Or frail? What if you spend the last years of our marriage washing my ass until I die?” 

“I love it when you talk dirty,” you tease. He's never outgrown his tendency to brood, but you've learned how to stop him from indulging in such sad thoughts—a skill you've honed over the years. 

Nanami smiles at the way you lightened his mood. 

“I just don't want to bother you with all that work then leave you grieving,” he says, holding your hand over his heart. “That's not what you deserve.” 

You can't help but smile at his devotion. You raise his hand and nuzzle your cheek against his warm, rough palm. His skin is looser at the back of his hand now, with thick and soft veins running underneath. But the way he has held you stays the same. Gentle and warm. Like laying your head on the sand.

“Grief... Grief is just an echo of love, Kento. That's how we know it was real. And that it was powerful,” you say, reaching down to caress his cheek. “We're spending the rest of our lives together, darling. I wanna feel and experience everything with you. That's what I deserve.” 

You lean down, until your soft breaths caress each other’s lips.

“And besides…" you whisper. "I like touching your ass."

Nanami rolls his eyes and shakes his head, though he couldn't help but smile. Then his eyes soften with warmth as he holds his gaze. Perhaps, for the first time, he is seeing the changes in you as well.

And everything about it is beautiful. 

“You're the love of my life,” he murmurs. 

“And you're mine,” you reply. 

You press your lips together, as you did a thousand times. And everything about it feels familiar and right. As if your bodies have found home in each other once again. 

He chuckles low against your lips and his joy is infectious. So you lean back and laugh as well. 

“What?” You ask. 

“It doesn't matter how old we get," he says. "I still feel young whenever we kiss."

You bite your lip and smile and you indulge him once again with your kisses. This time, he parts his lips and lets your tongue slip into his mouth with a deep groan. You pull back, warmed and softened by the taste of him. 

“Are you still feeling young down there too?” You ask. 

Nanami laughs softly, his eyes turning dark with want. 

“What do you think?”  

this is a birthday dedication to one of my dearest friends, who supported and guided me through my every hyperfixation. one day we will grieve each other. but not before we grow old and hot and rich 🥰 like catherine branski.

this is very rushed and i am sorry if the quality is not as good as when i take my time,,, i wanted to reach my friends birthday. please be gentle with me 🙇‍♀️

lust royale [m] ● knj

❥ Title | Lust Royale

❥ Pairings | Namjoon x female reader (feat. Jimin)

⤑ Genre | Royal Guard!Namjoon, Princess!reader, Royalty!au, Smut, Angst

⤑ Summary | He is a walking temptation, even if he would often argue that you are his. Both of you have known that what you share together is nothing more but an act of sin. But who are you to deny the pull, or the way he ignites the desire within you which would only lay dormant if not for his touch? And he would be a fool to deny you the same, even if he has to watch you walk down the aisle and exchange vows to another man right the next day.

⤑ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

⤑ Warnings | Dom!Namjoon, Sub!reader, brat!reader, infidelity, dirty talk, degradation, pet names, name calling, Namjoon has a perverse kink to shave the reader (yes, that’s a thing), power play, jealousy, size kink, fingering (female receiver), oral sex (female receiver), clit play, nipple play, breast play, unprotected sex, rough sex, spanking, sensory play, voyeurism, orgasm control, multiple orgasm, praise kink, aftercare.

⤑ Word count | 8k words

❂ Fall For Romance

         ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Dia through @bangtansorciere​

⤐  AU Type: Salted Caramel Ice Cream (Unrequited Love AU)

⤐  Themes: Forbidden Romance, Royalty

⤐  Kinks: Sensory Play, Spanking, Nipple Play, Fingering, Voyeurism, Orgasm Denial/Control, Multiple Orgasm, Overstimulation, Size Kink

There is a special place in hell for someone like you.

A place where only the wicked and evil, where cheaters and smugglers are all locked in and punished together.

But you would still rather take it and risk it all, because you can never resist choosing the flames of carnal desire that makes you feel more alive over the cold and bitter and lonely life of a loveless marriage.

Tonight, you have chosen to let the curtains on your massive windows open, refusing to deny yourself the sight of the beautiful night sky. Without any lights in your bedroom, the moonlight’s shine takes over. Its light gives life into your bedroom as it shines through the window, illuminating your empty bed and the wedding dress hanging on the other side of the room.

You don’t quite understand why you had refused to allow the servants to secure the dress in your wardrobe before they left you for the night. Perhaps your wicked soul is some sort of a masochist after all, as it seems to have the desire for punishment. Because while the wedding dress looks lovely, a masterpiece which had been crafted specifically for your special day, it also serves as a mockery, a reminder that keeps taunting you about the life that could have been. And nobody would understand this because you are the only one who can see it in its true form, to be able to look at it as what it truly is—a shackle that will forever bind and imprison you in the future life of the King’s wife.

Keep reading

Imagine Nanami Kento waking up from anesthesia after surgery, his bleary and unfocused gaze landing on you (his wife) standing beside him and holding his hand in yours. You smile at him warmly, softly reassuring him that he's okay and that you're right here beside him as he stares at you silently.

Nanami looks down at your joined hands, his gaze seems to focus on the wedding band adorning his ring finger. He stares at it for a moment before looking back up at you.

"Who are you?" He slurs, his words sloshy and imprecise. So unlike him, and so very adorable. "Are you a nurse?"

You giggle at Nanami's question.

"No, I'm not a nurse."

Nanami seems puzzled at your response. His brows furrow as his fingers move against yours, thumb stroking across your knuckles in that gentle motion he always does to soothe you. Your smile widens. Looks like there are some things that even ketamine can't erase.

"Wow. You got the most gorgeous smile. Are you a model? You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my whole life. You got really pretty teeth too..."

Kento's fingers tighten around yours, his voice falling into a groggy whisper.

"But...I think I'm married. We shouldn't be holding hands like this."

You bite your lip, fighting against the bubbling laughter in your throat and failing.

"O-Oh?"

Nanami nods, his expression shifting from one of appreciative awe to adorable seriousness.

"I want to be a good husband."

Well that just about melted your whole damn heart. Even the hospital staff in the background can't repress their "awww"s and "that's a keeper"s.

"Don't worry, you are a wonderful husband, Kento. I know that for sure."

He's confused again, those unfocused honey brown's searching yours, trying to figure out the situation as best as he can given the circumstances.

"How do you know?"

You raise your left hand, bringing it into his line of sight and wiggle your ring finger, the golden band surrounding it captures Nanami's attention in an instant.

"Because I'm your wife."

Nanami's eyes instantly grow wide, his expression morphing into one of childlike wonder.

"You're my wife?"

You laugh.

"Yes."

He squeezes your hand with a surprising amount of strength given that he was knocked out cold not that long ago.

"We're really married?"

"Yes."

"Wow..." Kento breathes, drifting off for a moment before asking you another question. "Have we kissed yet?"

His innocent yet hilarious question sends you into another fit of laugher.

"Y-yes! Many times."

Nanami rewards you with a dopey smile, his gaze so utterly loving, enchanted by your unrestrained joy.

"My wife." He murmurs adoringly, his fingers reaching up to caress your cheek.

"I love hearing you laugh." His palm cups your face. "You really are so beautiful. I hit the jackpot, didn't I?"

Grinning from ear to ear, you press a tender kiss to Kento's fingertips before guiding his hand back down to the bed.

"Alright sweetest man alive, you need to stop talking before you make every person in this room fall in love with you. I'm going to grab a snack for us for later. I'll be right back, okay?"

Kento nods.

"Okay. Can I get another kiss when you come back?"

SWEAR IT’S JUST RIGHT FOR YOU. | NANAMI. K

જ⁀➴ synopsis: when you and nanami are equally as obsessed with each other, it creates this perfect balance. you cook for him, and he treats your pussy like it’s a blessing.

જ⁀➴word count: 3,3k

જ⁀➴ c.w: pure filth with a bit of fluff, soft dom! nanami, he turns a bit rough towards the end, rough facefucking, cunnilingus + fingering, dirty talk + praise, riding, multiple orgasms + squirting.

When Nanami praises you, it’s soft, gentle and endearing. His rough palm gently collides with the soft skin of your jaw and his thumb traces your cheek. He is reminding you of how much you mean to him, how he would burn the entire world if it meant keeping you safe and protected. You are his fairy, his delicate girl whom he could never imagine even raising his voice at. When he scolds you, his voice is stern and filled with worry despite the displeased tone, his hand grabs at your shoulder not to hurt you, and you want to caress your thumb over his forehead and get him to stop furrowing his eyebrows so deeply.

“You’ll get wrinkles, Ken.” Your voice pulls him out of his displeased state for a moment, and Kento hears birds chirping outside of the window and the sunbeam caresses your skin—It hits your beautiful eyes and he takes in every detail; your eyebrows, the slight discoloration the bottom of your jaw, the mole that seems to bring out the beauty in you even more, your eyelashes that aren’t curled but naturally have a pretty shape to them and he heaves out a sigh. He is consumed by love wherever you are near.

Heaven knows how much the man craved domesticity. He found comfort in it—a routine, a promise that when he comes home, he gets to take off his brown shoes at the front door, put his keys in the small bowl that has a mirror hanging right above it. He would then look at his reflection in the mirror and look away immediately when he notices the sweat stains as he removes his jacket. He hears your footsteps as you rush out of the kitchen with a pretty apron around your waist. You made bread, and Nanami isn’t sure whether to be infatuated by the smell of it, or the smell of your hair that hits his nostrils as you wrap your arms around his waist.

He wouldn’t care that your hair is slightly damp, but he would breathe out how the tank top you were wearing was going to get you sick if you don’t watch out. And Kento cares a lot about your comfort, he respects you a lot, so when you hug his sweaty self, his hands would gently try to remove your arms from around him and protest that he was dirty.

“It’s all hard work, Ken. I like it.” To which he wouldn’t say much but give in and let you hold him. He understands that to an extent, having a natural smell like this was attractive, he’s always told you that he likes it when you come home complaining about sweating too much and all he says is that it makes you even more attractive. Your flushed cheeks, your hair sticking up in small antennas, your nose scrunching up at how disgusting it feels to have your shirt cling onto your skin—

“Can I join you in the shower?” Which always catches you off guard, but you accept of course and Nanami sets his book down, he removes his glass and folds them neatly on top of the book before following right behind you in the bathroom. You giggle nervously when you see him close the door and lock it before leaning against it, and you let out a small and timid ‘what?’ when he keeps eyeing with the same intense eyes.

“You are beautiful.” He never denies that he is looking at you—admiring you, but instead reminds you every time that nothing in the world can change his mind about his infatuation with you.

And somewhere in between that comforting thought of coming home to you, a show playing on TV in the living room, bread baking in the oven and the smell of a clean home—Nanami dreams of fucking you stupid on the couch. He wouldn’t remove your apron, he wouldn’t let you wash your hands off of the flour—he would simply drop his pants, push your shorts down and spread your legs only to find out that you weren’t wearing any panties.

He feels sick to his stomach at thought, sighs and rubs his forehead at the fact that he was imagining such dirty things to do with you. If it were a normal fantasy like coming home and fucking you on the bed, he wouldn’t feel that bad. But that was the thing about fantasies, they existed in our head without our control, and it was up to us to act out on them or not. Kento cherished you too much to scare you off with his oh-so-called sick and twisted fantasy of his.

He comes home after a long day at work, and it’s a few minutes past seven. The house isn’t quiet, there is a show playing in the background and that was the first thing that had Kento stop dead in his tracks. He chooses to brush it off and simply rids himself of his jacket and shoes, sets his keys on the bowl before the smell of bread hits his nostrils and his lips part in confusion.

Was he dreaming? Did he somehow astral project into another dimension where his fantasy was a reality? It only confuses him further when you come out of the kitchen wearing an apron—in this reality though, you’ve chosen to wear one of his shirts instead, and Nanami doesn’t know if it’s better or worse. He tries to hide it, the way he can feel his cock hardening in his pants as you approach him with his shirt, fuzzy socks and hands that had traces of flour on them.

“You’re home.” Is how you greet him, your cheek resting on his chest and melting against his body as you breathe in his scent, a constant reminder that you get to be greeted with this sight five times a week around the same time. You boyfriend’s hand travels up to the back of your head and his fingers comb through your hair as he hums a tired response.

“Did you miss me?” Obviously, is what you want to say. But instead, when you look up at him and notice his hooded eyes, you feel his other rest on the small of your back and your heart leaps in your chest. All of a sudden, you feel hot and you feel something poking at you and you’re just surprised.

It was normal for your boyfriend to have needs, you were used to the sexual frustration that comes with having such a stressful job—but normally, Kento would avoid initiating anything with you until he’s showered and made sure he was clean. For him to insinuate that he wanted you, and so loudly with those eyes—you could feel your panties getting ruined.

“Pretty girl,” he calls out for you again when he notices your silence and the hand resting on your waist holds your chin whilst the other firmly grabs your hair. “Did you miss me?” He asks again, stern and you nod. You missed him too much, you realize. Because the lack of conversation beside greeting him and telling him he’s home—all of it was intensifying the sexual tension. It was almost like your body was warning you that Kento wasn’t going to go easy on you this time and you felt jittery.

“I missed you, Kento. Did you miss me?” You say as your hands grab onto his blouse in fists. You bring him closer to you, and gasp when you feel his hand travel down to hold your neck. He isn’t trying to cut your air, but when you make eye contact with him and see that his face has darkened, you let out a small noise.

“Let me show you instead.”

On the couch, Nanami wastes no time to attach his lips to yours and kiss you breathless. He was such a good kisser, always so passionate, always making sure to tease the corner of your lips before biting nibbling here and there—and fuck, did he lose his mind every time you tried to suck on his tongue. He would just push you on your back and cage you between his strong arms.

Nanami feels like he is constantly losing his breath whenever you are near, but when you grab onto his forearms and moan, he goes feral. Suddenly, he is reminded of how much weaker you are compared to him—frail, delicate, soft and sensitive to his touch. He is lucky, he is blessed and he makes sure to spoil you and that pretty pussy.

His kisses trail all the way down from your neck to your collarbones, his takes a whiff of your perfume and hums.

“You smell so sweet,” he mumbles against your skin. Instead of removing your apron and shirt, he pushes them up to reveal the cute panties that you were wearing and his finger traces the wet patch that’s already formed.

“Kento,” you call out to your boyfriend breathless, desperate—as though you were on a deserted island and he was the water to quench your thirst. Your legs spread on instinct for the man to settle between them and you feel his hot breath right against your panties.

“But you smell even better here… Right here,” he says and he pushes your panties to the side to reveal the wet mess hiding behind the fabric. You prop yourself up a bit higher to be able to look at Nanami while he eats you out, and you blush when you notice that he’s already staring at you.

“Up.” He pats your ass and you lift up your hips to allow him to remove your panties for you, but instead of throwing them on the floor, you see him take a whiff of the fabric and sigh and your blush darkens.

“Can I keep these, my love?” He asks sweetly, voice so deep you felt like your pussy was embarrassing you with how wet it was and you mindlessly nod. “Is that so?” He knew you wouldn’t say no, but he still wanted to thank you for trusting him with his perverted intentions.

“You’re too good for me.” Is the last thing that you hear from him before he dives between your legs and fuck—he is too good. You know Nanami is good, you don’t doubt that he can make you cum as many times as he wants before reaching his own high, but something about him eating your pussy like a treat, enjoying every drop and sucking on your clit with the intention of making you lose your mind—that was too much.

You feel his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks before smothering his face in your pussy. His nose nudges at your clit while his tongue licks at your folds and you think that for a moment, maybe he is enjoying this more than you do. His hands grip your thighs to keep them in place, and when he notices that your legs are starting to shake and your hips are bucking up, he takes one look at you and his dick almost bursts.

Flushed chest, swollen lips and a fucked out face. If Nanami wasn’t already in love with your beauty, then he feels himself falling deeper for you. You fall apart on his tongue a couple of seconds later, he enjoys the way you gasp, moan and cry as he keeps his lips attached to your clit and you try to push his head away.

“Too much,” you gasp. “Kento!” you cry out when you feel his two fingers nudge at your folds and by this point, you are breathing too hard. You feel his thick finger prod at that one spongy spot almost immediately and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He presses a hand to your stomach and praises are spilling from his lips like a chant, watching as your soul almost escaped your body with every thrust of his thick fingers perfectly against your spot.

“That’s right baby, you’re doing so good,” “this pussy takes me so well,” “you make me so proud, look at this pussy—fucking filthy,”

The mixture of praise and him losing his composure and cursing has you reaching your orgasm again faster than expected. But this time, you make a bit of a mess and you try to apologize for ruining the couch and his clothes but he is quick to shut you up with his lips.

“You’ve just squirted on me, and you want to apologize?” he mumbles against your cheek, fingers still buried inside you and you whine.

“I made a mess,” you try to reason with your beast of a boyfriend but he quickly retreats his fingers back and delivers a harsh smack to your pussy.

“It’s never been a problem when it’s our bed, has it?”

“Kento,” you call out softly when your boyfriend starts to kiss at your neck again. “Kento, fuck my mouth.” Nanami’s brain short circuits at this and the shock is evident on his features. He doesn’t have time to stop you or protest because you are quick to get off the couch and on your knees for him.

“You’ve been so good to me, keeping me satisfied and happy—I bet you want to fuck my mouth sometimes, don’t you?” Your hands are quickly unbuckling his belt. You don’t remove his pants completely, only enough to free his painfully hard cock from his boxers. Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and you watch as he throws his head back on the couch with each slow stroke.

“You don’t know what you are asking for,” is what he says as he tries to get you to back out of this, but you are determined to let him ruin your life. Him, the only man on this planet whom you would blindly trust with your life.

“I know what I am asking for.”

“I could hurt you,”

“I will tap your thigh if you do,” and then there’s a few moments of silence where Kento just stares deeply into your eyes. When you see him lean down towards you, your breath catches in your throat and your lips part in shock when his hand goes to the back of your head and the other one grips your jaw open.

“Open up.” And when you do, he rests the fat tip of his cock on your tongue. The pre-cum is a bit salty but you don’t say anything as you let Kento handle your mouth to his liking. He tells you to open up a bit more and breathe before he starts to thrust his dick in and out of your mouth at a slow pace.

You’re taking it well at first, but when you notice your boyfriend’s thighs shaking, indicating that he is holding back on you, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Quite literally.

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and you push his dick down your throat, nose nuzzling against his pubes and he curses out loud.

“Fuck--!” You repeat the same motion over and over again, and by the third time, your boyfriend finally breaks and starts fucking your mouth like a starved man. Your knees burn, and so do your lungs—the couch is moving every time Kento brings your head back on his cock and you’ve braced yourself on his thighs for support.

“Sorry—fuck, I’m sorry baby,” he says between gritted teeth. However, when his eyes catch that you’re rubbing your swollen clit to the same rhythm of your head on his cock, something in him snaps.

He pushes you off of his cock, and any complaint you head is drowned out when he stands up and his cock stands proud. You look up at him from your spot on the floor and brace yourself on his thighs again when you feel him grab your face and push his cock inside your mouth.

“Filthy fucking girl,” he breathes out. “Can’t even let me be sweet to you—shit,” based on how difficult it is to even talk properly, you guess that he is close and so you sneak a hand between his legs and starts fondling with his balls—you squeeze them, and that’s when Nanami finally breaks and cums down your throat with a broken moan.

Even while trying to catch his breath, Nanami’s hands caress your face and neck as he takes a seat and pulls you closer to him. He then helps you get back up on your feet and pulls you on his lap to kiss you. He can taste himself on your tongue even after you’ve swallowed everything.

“Was I good?” You ask when he pulls away from your lips to kiss your cheek and down your neck once again, a pattern that he’s learned always turns you into putty.

“Perfect, my love. You are perfect for me.”

You are surprised at how fast he gets hard again, but you supposed it’s also because you were literally grinding your bare pussy against his dick. Your hands hold onto his shoulders for support as you try to slip his dick past your folds, but you let out a surprised noise when he easily lifts you up and aligns the tip of his cock with your pussy.

“Noticed that you like my arms a lot,” he says and you are obliged to stare at his forearms and good lord—the way they flex as they hold you above his cock, Nanami lets out an amused chuckle when he sees a string of arousal drip directly on top of his cock. “You do like them, huh?”

“Baby,” you whimper and Kento cannot find it in him to tease you any longer. He gently drops you down on his cock and he immediately gets to work. His hand rests on the small of your back and pushes you towards him to press your chest flush against his, his hands then grip your ass cheeks and he starts to slam you up and down on his cock with so much ease.

You sound like a mess. The combination of your boyfriend’s strong arms and the tip of his thick cock abusing your spot turns you into a blabbering mess on top of him.

“So good, so good—fuck, oh fuck,” sounded like music to his ears. Your whines your moans, your fucked out look and your eyes begging him to ruin you—Nanami was addicted to every part of you.

And it only takes a few more messy and sloppy thrusts from him and you cum around him with a loud cry.

“There you go,” he says breathlessly, feeling his own orgasm creeping up on him. “Make a mess on me, baby,”

You shake like a leaf on top of him, hands gripping onto his shirt for dear life and lips pressed against his neck.

“Think you can take a bit more for me? I’m really close, darling,”

“Hurry up,” you say desperately and as promised, Kento thrusts a few more times before he is cumming inside you with a loud groan. He buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent that has now been mixed with his own and a hint of sweat. He relaxes in your hold, hand tracing the small of your back as a way to get you to come down from your orgasm and perhaps even apologize for being a bit rough with you earlier.

All of his worries are brushed off when you pull away from him to press a kiss to his forehead, his nose then down to lips.

“I love you, Ken. I love you too much,” you announce, a hint of sleepiness to your voice and a smile finds its way to his face.

“I love you too, darling. I love you too much.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

Do you ever look at guys hands and think fuck yes

Jealousy

Pairing : Namoon x reader fab

Genre : smut, real world au (?) angst, slight possessiveness and jealousy, MDNI, slight fluff.

Summary: Friends with benefits always gets complicated when one of you catches feelings.

Word Count : 4.5k

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The clinking of glasses and the buzz of conversation filled the air, a symphony of sound that perfectly matched the warm, inviting atmosphere of the cosy bar.

The scent of freshly grilled meats and the faint aroma of soju mingled in the air, creating a comforting and intoxicating blend.

Soft, warm light washed over the room, casting a gentle glow on the faces of the people gathered there.

You sat at a table with your large group of friends, a comfortable mix of laughter and camaraderie enveloping you.

Namjoon was finally back after three long months away, his business trip over, and everyone was here to catch up.

Your eyes scanned the table, landing on Namjoon. He was sitting across from you, his face lit up with a smile as he engaged in conversation with your friends.

Feeling your gaze, his eyes flicked towards yours, a small dimpled smile spreading across his face. You returned the smile, a flicker of something familiar passing between you.

Although your group was close, there was a secret between you and Namjoon, a secret that no one else knew.

A secret that had started with a drunken night and had turned into something more.

You had been friends for a long time, but that night, under the influence of alcohol, you had crossed a line simply because you both had been feeling needy.

Namjoon had made it clear from the beginning that he didn't want a relationship. It was purely fucking, a casual arrangement that suited both of you. Or so you thought.

As time went on, your feelings for him had grown. You had already fallen for his dimpled smile, his kindness, and the way you connected over deep conversations and shared interests. He was everything you wanted in a man. Sleeping with him only further cemented those feelings, causing you a lot of heartache.

You had felt stupid and foolish for putting yourself in such a vulnerable position.

So, when Namjoon had told you he was going away for work, it had been a relief—a much-needed break to get your head straight and put some distance between the intense emotions you had been wrestling with.

You had convinced yourself that the time apart would help you move on, to finally get over the complicated feelings that had grown between you.

While he was away, the two of you kept in touch through the occasional text message.

After all, you were still friends, and it felt natural to check in on each other. The conversations were friendly, casual—nothing too deep or revealing.

You made sure to keep it light, steering clear of any topics that might dredge up the more intimate aspects of your past arrangement.

They were polite check-ins, nothing more, which helped you maintain the distance you needed.

You had taken this opportunity to fully embrace the idea of moving on.

With Namjoon away, it felt like the perfect time to focus on yourself, to break free from the emotional rollercoaster you had been riding for far too long.

And so you joined a dating site. It felt like a fresh start, a chance to explore new possibilities and meet someone who could offer the kind of connection you were truly looking for.

At first, it was a bit nerve-wracking, scrolling through profiles, wondering if anyone could match up to the image of Namjoon that still lingered in your mind, but you had made progress.

Just as you were about to take a sip of your drink, something in your peripheral vision caught your attention. You did a quick double take, seeing a familiar face in the crowd. It was the guy you'd been on a few dates with recently.

A pang of surprise shot through you, quickly setting your drink down and made your way over to him. Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "I didn’t know you came here!" you exclaimed, a smile spreading across your face.

He flashed you a bright smile. "Hey! I’m here waiting for some colleagues. What about you? Who are you with?"

You nodded toward the table behind you. "I’m here with some friends. Come say hi!"

As you led him over, Namjoon's expression darkened. He glanced sharply from Jung to you, clearly puzzled and annoyed at how close you seemed. Who the hell is this guy? he thought, his mind racing.

After the introductions were made, Hoseok couldn’t resist asking, "So, how do you two know each other?"

Jung’s smile grew even warmer as he glanced at you. "We’ve been on a few dates," he said, his eyes lingering on yours.

You shifted slightly, feeling the heat rise in your face as you avoided making eye contact with Namjoon.

Namjoon’s jaw tightened visibly, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

His body language spoke volumes—arms crossed tightly, shoulders rigid. The tension radiating off him was almost tangible.

He tried to maintain a neutral expression, but his clenched fists and the way his gaze fixed on you and Jung betrayed his inner turmoil.

A flicker of possessiveness stirred in Namjoon, surprising even him. He knew he had no right to feel this way, but the thought of you with another man was like a needle pricking at his chest, making him uncomfortable.

He swallowed hard, trying to push away the tightness that constricted his breathing.

“Oh, nice. So, are you two going to go out again?” Jimin asked, his curiosity evident in the playful smile on his face.

“Yeah, sure. I mean I would like to.... if Y/N wants to” Jung said, his gaze shifting back to you, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Namjoon’s mouth went dry. His stomach felt like it was twisting into knots as he waited for your response. What if she says yes?

The thought made him feel uneasy. His fingers drummed nervously against his thigh as he tried to steady his breath.

You nodded slowly, your voice soft and hesitant. “Yes,” you managed to say, though the word felt like it got stuck in your throat.

The sense of guilt, though irrational given your arrangement, settled heavily on your shoulders. You were acutely aware of Namjoon’s presence, the intensity of it making you squirm.

You certainly didn’t want Jung to know about your history with Namjoon. The last thing you needed was to complicate things further.

When you glanced back at Namjoon, you found him stone-faced, his jaw clenched tight. The rigidity in his posture was unmistakable. You frowned, silently questioning him, but he only looked away, sipping on his drink quietly.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you forced yourself to focus back on Jung, attempting to ignore the unsettling tension that lingered like a thick fog in the air.

You laughed along with your friends, trying to blend back into the cheerful atmosphere, but the knot in your stomach wouldn’t loosen.

A few minutes later, Jung’s colleagues arrived, and with a quick, friendly goodbye, he wandered off to join them.

You watched him go, grateful for the brief respite from the awkwardness. As you turned back to your friends, you realized Namjoon was gone.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you scanned the room, searching for him. Where did he go?

Just then, you caught sight of him slipping out through the main entrance. Without a second thought, you hurried after him, weaving through the crowd as you dashed toward the door.

The cold air bit at your cheeks as you stepped outside, your breath fogging in the night. The city lights, a blur of neon and yellow, reflected off the wet pavement.

You spotted Namjoon leaning against a wall, a cigarette burning between his fingers, his tall figure partially hidden in the shadows.

The streetlights cast eerie, elongated shadows that danced around him, adding to the sense of foreboding.

"Namjoon," you called softly, your voice almost a whisper against the backdrop of the bustling street.

He looked up at you, his eyes a bit glazed from the alcohol, the usual sparkle replaced by a dull haze. The cigarette smoke curled around his face, obscuring his features. "You okay?"

"I’m fine," he replied, but the clipped tone in his voice told a different story.

He lurched from the wall, his movements slightly unsteady, and stubbed the cigarette out before heading off down the street away from you.

You stood there, confusion knotting in your chest as you watched him start to walk away.

His sudden change in behaviour left you feeling adrift. Without a second thought, you hurried after him, your frustration simmering with every step.

"Joon! Wait. What’s going on?" you demanded when you finally caught up to him, grabbing his forearm. The tension radiated off him in waves. His jaw clenched tightly.

"Just leave me alone and go back to Jung," he replied in a monotone, the words cutting through the night air, each word cutting through the chilly night air like a blade. His voice was cold and distant, as if he were speaking to a stranger.

“What?!” Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of what he was saying, taking in his face.

“Are you jealous?” you asked, almost in disbelief. Your voice trembled slightly, caught off guard by his sudden outburst.

He whirled around to face you, his eyes blazing with a cocktail of emotions. “Jealous? Of him?!” he asked, incredulity dripping from his words. His voice was harsh, almost venomous.

“Well, why else would you say that? You’ve been in a mood ever since he sat with us,” you pointed out, your voice edged with frustration. You took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I just don’t like him. You’re too good for him,” he spat out through clenched teeth, the words dripping with a mix of anger and something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

His eyes were filled with a strange intensity, a mix of possessiveness and protectiveness that you couldn’t quite understand.

Namjoon continued walking, breathing harshly.

“You don’t even know him!” you shot back, fists clenching as you struggled to keep up with his long strides.

A few drunken bystanders turned and looked at you, their curious eyes following your heated exchange.

Their laughter, muffled and distant, added to the tension in the air. You ignored them, focusing solely on Namjoon and the growing intensity of his anger.

“I don’t need to. I don’t want you seeing him,” he snapped over his shoulder, his voice sharp and possessive.

“Are you kidding me. Do you hear yourself?!” You let out a disbelieving snort, your eyes wide in shock at his audacity.

“Just because we fucked a few times doesn’t mean you can dictate who I can date! You’re just pissed because I’m not going to come running when you want some pussy” Your frustration was clear, each word punctuated with the sting of betrayal.

“Isn’t that what friends with benefits means? We agreed on the arrangement, didn’t we?” he shot back, his voice tinged with frustration as if you were the one breaking the rules.

You laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and unforgiving in the cold night air. “Yeah, but that also means it ends when one of us starts dating!”

Namjoon’s pace slowed as he reached the entrance of his apartment, his voice dropping to a gritty, low growl. “Were you even going to tell me?” He stopped abruptly, turning to face you, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes, when the time was right. What about you? I could say the same for you, what about the women you were hooking up on your work trip.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his expression tightening with a mix of hurt and frustration. He looked almost insulted by your words, as if you’d just questioned his character. “That’s because there were none!” he snapped, his voice rougher than you expected.

You laughed again, this time with incredulity. "Are you serious? You, the most gorgeous man I know, who can command a room and have any woman he wants has nothing to tell? That you weren't getting pussy whenever you wanted?"

The irony of your so-called friends-with-benefits arrangement stung like salt in an open wound. It was almost absurd when you thought about it.

Here he was, this breathtakingly handsome man, someone who could have anyone he desired, and yet he had chosen you. Just you—average, unremarkable, nothing special. A friend.

It felt like some cruel joke, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had even bothered with you in the first place.

Namjoon’s expression shifted from anger to one of genuine surprise, his eyebrows shooting up as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. “You think I’m attractive?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You let out a heavy sigh, the exasperation clear in every breath you took. It felt like a punchline to a joke that wasn’t funny.

“Are you seriously asking me that? It’s not the point. The point is you were gone for three months. Three whole months. Did you really think I was just going to sit around and wait for you like some pathetic puppy, waiting for your call?" You tried to keep your voice steady, but it quivered with the weight of your emotions.

"Yes, I know that’s what a friends-with-benefits arrangement is supposed to mean, but you’re not the only one who has a life. I have one too, you know.”

The weight of everything unsaid between you was too much, and you were already stepping back, the chilly night air biting at your skin.

Namjoon’s gaze followed you as you moved, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. His eyes, those deep eyes that usually commanded a room, were now clouded with confusion and something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

You were already turning on your heel, the weight of the conversation pressing down on your shoulders like a physical burden.

You took a few steps away from him, your breath coming out in sharp bursts, trying to create some distance between you and the emotional storm you were caught in.

But before you could get far, his voice cut through the night, low and possessive, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

"You’re mine."

The words stopped you in your tracks, your heart pounding in your chest.

You turned slowly, meeting his eyes. There was something desperate, almost primal, in the way he looked at you—like he was on the edge of losing something he couldn’t bear to let go of.

Your breath hitched, your mind racing to catch up with what he had just said.

The audacity of it, the sheer nerve, made your blood boil, but there was something else too—something in the way he said it that made your chest tighten, made your heart ache with a mixture of anger and something you didn’t want to name.

"What did you just say?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity in your tone.

He stared at you, his eyes searching yours, the intensity between you growing thicker with each passing second. Finally, he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

"You heard me" he said, his tone firm yet laced with something deeper, something raw. "I know we had an arrangement, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with you being with someone else."

"Do you hear yourself?" you managed to croak out, the emotion clawing at your throat, threatening to spill over. “I'm not someone's property.”

The night air felt suffocating, and the ache in your chest grew sharper with every passing second.

You wanted so badly to be his, to be loved by him in the way you had always dreamed, but deep down, you knew he never wanted that with you. It had always felt like you weren’t good enough for him, like you were a mere afterthought in his world.

“I know you're not,” He sighed heavily, a sound of pure exasperation escaping his lips as he looked up at you, his eyes clouded with a mix of regret and earnestness. His brows furrowed deeply, a stark contrast to his usually eloquent demeanour.

It was as if every carefully chosen word he normally wielded so effortlessly had suddenly betrayed him, slipping into clumsy, hurtful phrases.

He knew he should have been able to articulate his feelings with precision, but the weight of the situation left him grappling for the right words.

He stepped even closer, his body nearly brushing against yours. The proximity was suffocating, yet electrifying, his presence overwhelming your senses.

His thick, pillowy lips, so soft and inviting, hovered dangerously close to yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

The desire to close the gap between you was almost unbearable, but the confusion and frustration gnawing at your heart held you back.

“Why did you follow me here? Your boyfriend is still at the bar,” he added, his voice rough and accusatory, his words slicing through the fragile connection between you.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you shot back, your tone defensive, your heart racing with a mix of anger and confusion.

You could feel the tremor in your voice, the raw vulnerability that you were trying so hard to mask.

Namjoon’s eyes flared with a mixture of anger and something more tender, something that made your heart skip a beat. "No? Then I can do this."

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body pressed so close that you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Your soft breasts pressed against his hard chest, creating an overwhelming sense of intimacy.

"Namjoon!" you gasped, your eyes widening in shock at the sudden proximity. His grip tightened, holding you in place, his gaze never wavering from yours.

The world around you seemed to blur, the sounds of the night fading into the background as the tension between you reached its peak.

His eyes softened, the anger melting away to reveal something more vulnerable, something that mirrored the longing you had tried so hard to suppress.

Before you could react, his lips, so full and soft, crashed against yours with a fierce urgency that took your breath away.

For a fleeting moment, you gave in to the kiss, feeling the familiar warmth of his lips flood your sense, tasting him. But as quickly as it began, reality snapped back into focus.

You placed your hands on his chest, the firmness of his muscles grounding you as you pushed him away with a mix of urgency and confusion.

The night air felt suffocating, each breath more laboured as your confusion and frustration swirled inside you.

“Why are you acting like this?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you searched his face for answers.

You couldn’t understand why he was being so possessive, so contradictory, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

Namjoon’s expression shifted the moment he saw the tears threatening to spill over. The hard lines of his face softened, and his grip on you loosened just enough for you to feel the change in his demeanour.

He would never want to hurt you, that much was clear, and seeing you in pain seemed to break something inside him.

“I love you, Y/N”

The words hung in the air between you, his confession cutting through all the confusion and anger, leaving you breathless and completely stunned.

Time seemed to freeze as you stared up at him, searching his eyes for any hint that this was just an emotional outburst.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This is just a reaction to seeing me with someone else.”

The hurt that crossed his face was unmistakable, a sharp, raw edge that made your heart twist in your chest.

“Is that how low you think of me?” he asked, his voice thick with disbelief, his brows furrowing as he stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe you would think that of him. "You know me more than anyone!"

“I didn’t mean it like that. But we knew this would end eventually. you stammered, your eyes dropping to the ground as shame flooded your cheeks. “But we knew this would end eventually. That’s what friends with benefits means. You never wanted a relationship… and… I-I did.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, each one a painful reminder of the boundaries you had tried so hard to respect, the unspoken rules you had forced yourself to follow.

You dared to glance up, just for a moment, only to find Namjoon’s expression unreadable. His jaw was clenched, the muscle there twitching slightly as he processed your admission.

Suddenly, his hand was under your chin, his touch gentle but firm as he tilted your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made your breath hitch, the raw emotion there sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb brushed softly across your skin, wiping away a tear that had slipped free.

"I love you, Y/N," he said, his voice low and unsteady, yet filled with an undeniable sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. "I’m in love with you. You’re the only person I want."

The confession hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that left you reeling.

You couldn’t respond, your mind struggling to process the gravity of his words, the weight of the emotions that had been hidden for so long. It felt like the ground had shifted beneath you, the world tilting on its axis as you tried to make sense of everything.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, spilling over as you spoke, your voice choked with sobs. “If that were true, you would have said something sooner," you cried, the pain in your voice cutting through the air.

"You wouldn’t have left me confused and hurt, wondering what I meant to you. It’s my fault—I should have never agreed to this when I knew how I felt. I was selfish because it was the only way I could have you.”

Your breath hitched as the tears came harder, your chest heaving with the effort to hold yourself together. "And now… now you’re just jealous because I can get another guy," you added, the words bitter and sharp on your tongue.

Namjoon’s face softened at your words, the anger and frustration melting away, replaced by a gentleness that was almost shocking given the situation.

He took a step closer, his gaze locked on yours, a tenderness in his eyes that made your heart ache.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I never wanted to hurt you. I was afraid… afraid of ruining what we had, afraid of losing you if I asked for more. But I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else, Y/N. I can’t pretend anymore.”

You stared at him, your mind racing, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that had erupted between you. His hand, still holding your chin, was warm and steady, grounding you in the moment.

The desperation in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes—it was all too much, too overwhelming. "But why...why would you love me? I'm just average." your voice wavers.

“Do you see yourself?” he asked, his tone almost incredulous. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. Perfect. Perfect for me.” His gaze softened further, and he took a deep breath, his frustration melting into something more tender and vulnerable.

“The way you find positivity in every situation… How supportive you are of my dreams. It’s like you see me in a way no one else does.”

He paused, reaching up to gently brush a tear from your cheek, his touch feather-light yet electrifying. “I love how your face lights up when you talk about your hobbies and passions. I could listen to you for hours and never tire of it. And it’s not just that,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion, “it’s how you care for people so deeply. How you make me want to be a better person.”

You looked up at him, your vision blurred by tears, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. He reached out, cupping your face in his hands, his touch grounding and warm.

The intensity of his gaze seemed to hold all the things he had never said before, all the things you had hoped he felt but never truly knew.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N. Please don’t doubt that. Please don’t think you’re just average. Because to me, you’re extraordinary.”

“I…” you started, but the words faltered as your throat tightened with emotion.

“Do you love me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

You frowned, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice.

Every part of you was screaming for release, for the truth you had kept buried for so long.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you took a slow, shuddering breath and nodded.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough, almost pleading.

“I-I love you too” you whispered, the words escaping your lips like a confession, both freeing and terrifying all at once.

The moment the words left your mouth, Namjoon’s expression shifted—something fierce and determined flashing in his eyes.

Without another word, he grabbed your hand, his grip firm and unyielding, and pulled you towards the door of his apartment.

The world blurred around you as he slammed the door shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the walls.

Before you could even register what was happening, he was on you, pushing you up against the wall, his body pressing hard against yours.

His lips crashed onto yours, the kiss searing and desperate, as if trying to make up for all the lost time, all the words that had gone unsaid.

Your breath caught in your throat as you kissed him back, the intensity of the moment consuming you.

His hands roamed over your body, holding you close, his touch a mixture of possessiveness and tenderness.

Every inch of you was hyperaware of him—his warmth, his strength, the way his heart pounded against yours as he deepened the kiss.

His hand tangled into your hair, and a low, frustrated groan rumbled in the back of his throat. He pressed himself closer to you, seeking the friction that had been building between you.

His hard erection pressed insistently against his zipper. “I can’t take it anymore. I need you” he groans.

Clothes are quickly strewn across the floor, not even making it to the bedroom. Each article of clothing falls in a haphazard trail, creating a disarray of fabric that maps out the urgency and desperation of the moment.

Namjoon’s hands are restless, fumbling with the buttons of your jeans as if he’s afraid that if he doesn’t act quickly, this moment will slip away. His touch is feverish and hungry.

Bending down he picks you up his strong biceps bulging, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, arms around his neck. Your back is pressed against the cold hard wall, a complete contrast to how hot your body feels.

He rests his forehead against yours and he watches himself rub the tip of his hard swollen cock through your wetness.

Too eager to be inside you, too impatient to take it slow, as if reading his mind, your breathy voice next to his ear begs him "Please, Joon...I've missed you, I need you inside me!"

He groans "Shit....if you say things like that, I'm gonna cum too soon" you giggle, kissing his neck and jaw, slowly nibbling on his ear.

"Please....Joonie, fuck me" you whine.

"What my girl wants, she gets" he grunts, slowly lubricates his cock in your juices, rubbing back and forth he rubs his tip, before letting it catch in your entrance, and pushing his hips forward, letting himself sink into you.

His eyebrows furrowed, watching for any signs of discomfort. You bite your lip, as you try to accommodate him.

“Good girl, you’re taking me so well” he whispers above your lips, his voice strained as he tries to control himself, pushing into inch by inch.

You both cry out as his big cock slowly stretches your pussy open, the delicious burn, quickly giving way to pleasure when you feel him deeply lodged inside you. “oh fuck!”

“You okay?” he asks, concern etched on his face.

You nod a little. “You can move”

Your head lolls back against the wall as he slowly fucks into you, getting you accustomed to his length again. It feels so fucking good.

“"You are taking me so well. Fuck!” He groans, spreading your thighs wider his lips travelled down to the sensitive spot on your neck, leaving a trail of hot, demanding kisses that made your toes curl.

Each touch ignited a fire within you, sending shivers down your spine as his warm breath mixed with the intensity of his kisses.

He angles his hips, rolling them up as the tip rubs against your spongy wall inside. He moves slowly, his rhythm steady and powerful.

“Ugh!” You cry out, nails digging into his back as you cling on to him tightly.

He kisses you roughly". Who´s making you feel this good?"

“Mmmm. You are! Please. I’m going to cum!” Your eyes flutter shut, as you focus on the pleasure.

Heat prickles across your chest as you begin to feel the first tingles of your orgasm approaching.

“Fuck! Joon! Please. I’m going to cum!” You squeeze your eyes shut, as you focus on the pleasure.

“Open your eyes Y/N. Let me watch that pretty face of yours when you cum on my cock” he slams into you again with a growl, your eyes flash open, staring in to his intense gaze. "

Your pussy contracts around him, he can feel how aroused you are. Slick coating his pelvis.

Your eyes focus on his, your stomach muscles clench, suddenly you take in a harsh breath as the pleasure washes over you, thighs trembling.

So perfect" he murmurs, kissing you deeply swallowing your moans.

He begins to pick up speed, thrusting over and over into your swollen pussy, chasing his own high. The pleasure builds, fingers digging into your ass cheeks as he holds you tightly.

A guttural moan leaves his lips, he moans your name against your ear and you feel his thrusts becoming sloppier, and uneven, the pleasure crashing over him in waves.

He finally comes to a halt, his breath coming in ragged gasps, sweat glistening along his chest and face. He leans down, pressing his lips gently to your forehead, to your cheek and then gently on your mouth.

"I love you so much" he whispers softly.