Thread by @kumatokkii

🌸Flower shop AU🌸 where JK is in love with the owner, Namjoon, and comes to work at the flower shop to get closer to him, despite being terrible at the work. How can he impress Namjoon when he messes orders up and kills all the plants? Will Namjoon ever feel the same for him?

This was written based on the prompts given to me by the winner of my 3K follower giveaway! Please expect silly JK who is hopelessly (and destructively) in love--

and rimming

thank you for reading in advance! 🥰💜

It felt surreal.

Jungkook shuddered in front of a small fireplace, hands outstretched, not too close to the flickering flames but just enough to feel the hint of heat, enough to feel it seep past his skin and make his insides warm.

There were faint sounds of porcelain clinking from the kitchen behind him, a teaspoon stirring, a fridge opening and closing, and then footsteps. Jungkook almost didn’t want to turn around.

“I didn’t have coffee, I hope hot chocolate is fine?”

Ah, that voice.

Jungkook could drown in it, deep and warm, rich, like he knew the hot chocolate would be, and so he turned from the flames, smiled weakly, and then tottered over to the small coffee table, taking a seat on the floor cushions with averted eyes.

It was surreal for sure, to be here in Namjoon’s flat, wearing Namjoon’s clothes, drinking a hot chocolate prepared by Namjoon himself, and it was making Jungkook’s heart race slightly too fast, was making him feel short of breath and dizzy.

He could still hear the rain pelting against the windows, the wind howling in the dark evening, the lights flickering slightly.

Namjoon was smiling at him, mug to his perfect lips, and Jungkook flushed.

“Was the shower okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Jungkook nodded timidly, fiddling with the handle on his hot chocolate mug, looking at the little pattern of cute dancing bears wrapping around the porcelain. “Thank you uh, for all this.”

Namjoon grinned, and those pretty dimples were showing, shadows from the fire making them seem deeper, making Jungkook’s heart race faster and faster to the point where he felt his chest heave violently beneath Namjoon’s sweater.

Luckily the rain helped in his favor, drowning out his heartbeat, keeping it trapped under borrowed blue cashmere.

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s fine. I’d be a really shitty boss if I let you stand out in that rain any longer. We can’t have you catching a cold, right?”

“Right.”

Jungkook hated being reminded of what their relationship was, of what he was to Namjoon—just an employee, not worthy of thought outside the flower shop.

It pained Jungkook, Jungkook who was so desperately in love with Namjoon, who’d had this crush before he’d even scored the job, to be reminded that to Namjoon, he was just an employee. And not even a good employee either.

Jungkook wondered why Namjoon hadn’t fired him yet, wondered it on almost a daily basis.

He’d seen the help wanted flyer in the window of the small flower shop—tucked away on a back street that was lined with cafes—and had shrugged at it, not thinking much of it, until he’d stepped inside.

Jungkook was only after flowers for his mom’s birthday, just whatever bouquet was in the middle range of price and fancy looking, but he’d become distracted fast by the gorgeous man behind the counter.

The man introduced himself as Namjoon, helped Jungkook pick the perfect flowers, and had caused him to walk out of the store with not only an arm full of lilies and snapdragons but also a heavy weight inside his chest, which he later came to determine as a very unfaltering crush.

Jungkook began to stop by the store at least once a week, claiming more birthdays to justify his purchases, feeling sad that all the flowers he bought would die in his room and shed petals all over his desk.

The flyer was still up, even after a month, and it had taken all of Jungkook’s courage to ask Namjoon if he still needed someone.

Namjoon’s face lit up when he did, and Jungkook had almost cried from it, overwhelmed by Namjoon’s brilliant smile, overwhelmed by Namjoon’s joy.

Jungkook’s first shift started the next day, and he felt euphoric being handed the apron, tying it around his waist with stars in his eyes, thanking whatever gods he could for the opportunity to be by Namjoon’s side inside the quaint and dainty flower shop.

That gratitude was short lived though.

Jungkook was, for lack of better word— fucking terrible at the work.

It was horrifying and humiliating how often Jungkook messed up orders and gave the wrong bouquets to the wrong people, embarrassing how often he smashed vases and let plants wither and die.

It was shameful how he had to tell Namjoon, had to witness Namjoon sigh and pinch between his brows with disappointment, had to watch Namjoon somehow right all the wrongs Jungkook had committed.

Namjoon never shouted at him though, never scolded him, and somehow that felt worse in a way, like Namjoon couldn’t even be bothered giving Jungkook the time of day to tell him what a fucking idiot he was.

Jungkook knew his affection for the older man would never be returned, especially now, but that didn’t stop his crush from developing deeper, and it was almost debilitating in its intensity.

Jungkook would think about Namjoon upon waking, would stare at him and ponder an imaginary life together at work, break something, watch Namjoon clean it, and then think about Namjoon all night, ready to repeat it come his next shift.

It was too much, yet not enough, and Jungkook didn’t know what to do about it.

Which is why he felt so fucking uneasy, being inside Namjoon’s home right now.

In Namjoon’s clothes, drinking from Namjoon’s mug.

It had been a long day, and Jungkook had nearly quit, so frustrated with himself as he watched a customer return with a bouquet in her hands, fuming angrily about pollen and allergies, berating Jungkook from across the counter.

He’d tried to apologise, tried to give her a refund, a new bunch, and in the end, Namjoon had come to his rescue, had calmed the lady down and sent Jungkook into the small greenhouse at the back of the store to water the hydrangeas.

Jungkook turned the hose on without double checking the pressure setting, and watched with horror as the stream blasted the lilac petals from the poor plant, the stem now bare and snapped.

Fuck.

Namjoon had been there too, had watched it as it happened, and said nothing, only sighing, turning around to walk back into the storefront, and Jungkook wanted to melt into the floor and die.

So when his shift had finally come to an end, Jungkook had raced out the door without so much as a goodbye, and pondered writing up a letter of resignation, just to save Namjoon the effort of firing Jungkook himself.

That’s when the rain had hit, and Jungkook had been drenched and shivering in the chilly air, waiting for a bus that didn’t seem to be coming, clutching his backpack to his chest to protect the belongings inside.

Namjoon showing up with an umbrella had been a surprise, and Namjoon inviting him back to his flat to shower and warm up had left Jungkook speechless.

But he followed Namjoon back to the flower shop, followed his boss up the staircase that lay behind a hidden door towards the back of the store, and then he was in Namjoon’s home, everything warm and clean, smelling like fresh sheets and a hint of cinnamon, like Christmas.

Namjoon had shown him to the bathroom, laid out a set of clothes that were miles too big yet fit in a way that had Jungkook’s heart aching, and now here they were, sipping at hot chocolates, Jungkook too shy to make eye contact.

They’d never really had this sort of chance, to sit face to face and just talk, and Jungkook still felt awful for the day’s events, still felt like maybe quitting was the best option here since Namjoon was obviously too full of pity to fire him himself.

“Is it not good?” Namjoon asked, brows furrowed, gesturing at Jungkook’s mug. “I can remake it for you if you like? Or, I’ve got some marshmallows in the cupboard somewhere-”

“It’s good!” Jungkook felt his voice jump and crack, tried to clear his throat awkwardly, timidly tucking his long hair behind an ear. “I just… is this okay?”

“Is what okay?” Namjoon tilted his head, confused, placing his mug down to a coaster on the wooden table before him.

“Me, being in your house,” Jungkook uttered, still not wanting to meet Namjoon’s gaze, not wanting to see the disappointment in those warm, beautiful eyes.

“Of course it is,” Namjoon’s voice sounded soft with concern, and this made Jungkook look, winded instantly.

There was a crease in Namjoon’s brow, his honeyed hair was no longer styled back but falling across his forehead, and his tanned skin seemed to glow like caramel under the soft lights that flickered with every lightning crack from outside the window. “Why would this not be okay?”

Jungkook swore he could cry, just from the look of absolute patience on Namjoon’s face, despite how badly Jungkook knew he always fucked up.

He didn’t deserve Namjoon, as a boss, as a friend… as a lover.

Even though it was all he wanted, he knew he didn’t deserve it.

He couldn’t hold back the full body shudder, couldn’t keep the sob in the back of his throat trapped, so it crept up and out like a traitor, betraying him to Namjoon, unable to keep his insecurity buried any longer.

He sobbed, it was loud, and then he was hiding his face in his hands, hot chocolate abandoned on the tabletop as he tried to hide the impending tears.

“I fuck up a-all the time,” Jungkook’s words were shaky, whispered through his palms like a scolded kid. “I ruin everything, I’m s-so bad at this job and you still keep me around and even let me in your house and-”

“Jungkook, stop, it’s okay.”

Jungkook sniffled, too scared to look up once more, but he let his words die on his tongue, and waited, still buried nose deep into his hands, breathing heavily, feeling so panicked and weird and scared of what he could admit if he wasn’t careful.

But Namjoon was too hard to lie to, something about that soft voice, so full of care and gentleness, begging to be able to help, to be able to ease whatever Jungkook felt.

“I’ve never seen you like this before, and you’re worrying me a lot. What happened, Kook? You can tell me anything, and I’ll try and help, I promise.”

“You can’t help,” Jungkook was trembling beneath Namjoon’s clothes, face still hidden, long hair falling back from where it was previously tucked. “You won’t w-want to help-”

“I might, if you tell me what’s wrong.”

Shit.

The words came out so fast, Jungkook could barely register his mouth moving.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

As soon as he realised though, his stomach churned, and Jungkook wondered if he was going to puke all over the coffee table, wondered if Namjoon was going to laugh at him, throw him back out into the storm and fend for himself.

Jungkook wondered if he had ruined it all.

But as the silence got longer and scarier, Jungkook knew he had to look, had to peek between his fingers to stare at Namjoon from across the table, and when he did, the sight took him by total surprise.

Namjoon was blushed, just enough, pink beneath caramel skin, and his eyes were wide and shiny, the lights in the room making it look like all the stars in the night sky had a home there.

Thick lips were parted wide in shock, Namjoon blinking, once, twice, and Jungkook wanted to disappear.

“Oh god,” he whispered aloud, now unable to tear his gaze away from Namjoon, horrified with himself. “Did I really just fucking say that?”

“Uh,” Namjoon’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and Jungkook wondered what it would be like to leave red marks all over Namjoon’s neck. “You did.”

“Fuck, I need to leave-”

Jungkook went to stand but Namjoon reached across the table quickly, grabbing his arm, gaze unwavering.

“Don’t go,” Namjoon’s voice was quiet, comforting, Jungkook melting. “Stay, let’s talk?”

“But I made so many mistakes today,” Jungkook’s voice trembled. “I- I don’t want to add rejection to the bad pile as well.”

“Who said I was going to reject you?”

Jungkook froze in shock, feeling his eyes flash wide open, unable to blink.

“You- you have to,” was all Jungkook managed to get out, high pitched and almost panicked.

Namjoon blinked.

“Why?”

“B-because.”

Namjoon’s brows furrowed, confused, hand still gripping Jungkook, still keeping the younger man from leaving. Jungkook felt paralysed, like a deer in the headlights, all big eyes and locked limbs, waiting for the car to strike.

Namjoon pouted a little, and it was enough to make Jungkook want to melt away into the cushions.

“But I don’t want to?”

Jungkook recoiled in shock, grateful for Namjoon holding so tight to his wrist, saving him from toppling over into the carpet.

“You… you don’t?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon smiled, dimpled and handsome, pretty hair catching the light. “I mean, you break all my stuff, and make silly mistakes, but… it’s endearing?”

“It is?”

“Mm, and it shouldn’t be,” Namjoon laughed, finally letting Jungkook go, running a hand through his hair instead, making Jungkook’s heart race. “But, I guess I like you so much, that no matter what you do, it makes me feel all weird and gooey. Like love, or something.”

Like love.

Shit.

“Oh my god.”

“You okay, Jungkook?”

“Can we kiss?”

“Oh!” Namjoon blushed at Jungkook’s sudden boldness, the question seemingly confident, despite Jungkook’s teary eyes and wobbly pouted lower lip. “That fast?”

“Too f-fast?”

Jungkook squeaked when Namjoon crawled around the coffee table to get closer, brows raised suggestively, pushing away floor cushions to enter into Jungkook’s personal space

Namjoon’s hands were warm on him, rubbing up his shaking arms, cooing as if Jungkook was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“We can do fast,” Namjoon’s smile was brilliant, and Jungkook was reaching to clutch into the fabric at Namjoon’s chest, panting already from adrenaline, every dream about Namjoon coming true before his very eyes. “Or, we can do slow.”

Jungkook whined at the way Namjoon’s tone dropped at those last words, deep and rough with desire, feeling the heat of Namjoon’s chest from beneath soft fabric, feeling overwhelmed and insanely unstable.

“Whatever you want,” Jungkook managed to utter, awe in his wide eyes, cheeks flushing with pinks. “This feels like a hallucination.”

Namjoon chuckled.

“Did I leave you in the rain for too long, Kook? Do you feel sick?”

“No,” Jungkook tugged Namjoon closer, closer, basically crawling into the lap of the older man, desperate to take advantage of this moment, even if it really was a sickness induced fever dream. “I feel tingly.”

“Tingly?”

“Mm.”

Kissing Namjoon was awkward until it wasnt, Jungkook surprising his boss by cupping his jaw and surging forward, all groans and wet lips. Namjoon gasped against Jungkook’s open mouth, and they struggled to find a rhythm for the first few moments before everything fell into place.

Their kisses were soft but deep, the slick slotting of lips, the brush of tongue to tongue, and Jungkook felt his face burning, felt his entire body heat up beneath the giant borrowed clothing. It was real, it was happening-

Jungkook was actually kissing Namjoon.

The delayed realisation of what was happening hit Jungkook like a punch to his chest, suddenly breathless and panting loudly, arms pulled tight around Namjoon’s shoulders, legs coming to wrap around Namjoon’s sturdy waist.

He could feel Namjoon smile, lips curling against his own, and it made a whine slip up his throat, swallowed down quickly by the older man.

Namjoon’s hands were so sturdy, warm on Jungkook’s back, holding him with a firm delicacy, skimming one up the ridges of his spine. It made Jungkook squeeze closer, thighs tense around Namjoon, so overwhelmed, heat prickling beneath every inch of skin.

It had been a long time since Jungkook had kissed anyone, and this wasn’t a random party hook up, wasn’t a fleeting fling that only spanned a weekend- this was Namjoon, Kim Namjoon, his boss, his unfaltering crush, and Namjoon was kissing him back.

Namjoon was kissing him back.

Everything was drowned out in the presence of Namjoon, the rain pelting against glass windows, the fire crackling, nothing even registering in Jungkook’s lust addled mind.

Jungkook didn’t want to fight it, let it wash over him, let Namjoon’s touch and taste drown him, and there were no exchange of words, nothing to be said anyways, so Jungkook just kissed as if his entire life depended on it.

When Namjoon pulled away, Jungkook whimpered.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook apologised, voice cracking, unable to tear his gaze from where his spit had left Namjoon’s lips slick and shiny. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Namjoon’s breath puffed against Jungkook’s swollen lips, making him shiver from it, unable to stop himself from leaning close and letting their noses touch. “Can I kiss you more?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook would have squealed if his mouth wasn’t busy sucking in Namjoon’s tongue, taken by surprise as he was pressed down into the carpet, Namjoon pressed on him, heavy and hot, hands cupping Jungkook’s face like he was delicate, desired.

There was no thought when Jungkook let his thighs part, no thought when Namjoon slid one of his own between them, and Jungkook knew this was permission, knew what Namjoon was offering him-

There was no thought, as he took it.

Lightning cracked outside the window as Jungkook rolled his hips, small, slow wiggles as they groaned into one another, hands in fabric tugging, Jungkook and Namjoon both.

Namjoon’s thigh should have been a grounding force, hard and sturdy, but Jungkook felt delirious as he rutted upwards, the friction between clothed muscle and his clothed cock already too much.

It was embarrassing how wet his cock was getting inside Namjoon’s borrowed trousers, but Namjoon only pressed his thigh closer when Jungkook tried to pull away, offering it so generously to the younger boy pinned beneath him.

“Fast or slow?” Namjoon managed to rasp again, pulling away once more to take in Jungkook’s face, pupils blown wide, cock heavy against Jungkook’s hip. “What do you want?”

“Fast,” Jungkook was surprised his words had any weight to them, voice coming out without a hint of that nervous lisp that sometimes happened when Namjoon was too close. “Want it fast.”

“Want what fast?”

“Anything,” Jungkook clenched his thighs around Namjoon, shuddering as his cock twitched, sticking to the fleece. “Please.”

Namjoon hesitated, just for a moment, and then went for it, throat bobbing in the firelight as he swallowed loudly.

“Can I… can I eat you out?”

Jungkook had never been eaten out before, so the words made him freeze on the spot, made his eyes shoot wide open, made a small, frightened noise push past bitten lips.

Namjoon blinked, once, twice.

“Or something else,” the older man was blushing, but Jungkook knew he was mortified.

“No,” Jungkook pulled Namjoon further down, until he was practically squashed to the carpet, chests touching, arms pulled tight around broad shoulder. “You can, please, you can, I’ve just never h-had that before—”

“We don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Jungkook licked at Namjoon’s lips, a kitten lick at the seam of his mouth, suddenly so hot, so horny, at the thought of Namjoon spreading him wide with that warm tongue. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon growled, fingers sinking into Jungkook’s tiny waist, dragging his tensed thigh up and back, feeling Jungkook’s neglected cock jerk against the motions. “It feels so good, I promise. I’ll make it so good for you.”

“Never took you for an ass man,” Jungkook found the breath inside him to joke, and Namjoon pulled back and away, taking Jungkook with him before pressing him down into soft couch cushions.

It was already embarrassing, face down over the seat of the couch, spine curved, ass presented as fleecy knees were comforted by carpet, like he was ready and desperate for a fuck.

Embarrassing to be face down and ass up for his gorgeous boss, for Namjoon, in his house, in his clothes.

Jungkook felt a hand smooth up his back, over the fleece once and then coming to slide beneath it, stroking up the dip of his lower back, stroking up the bumps of his curved spine.

It made his skin feel like it was vibrating, like a surge of heat was buzzing beneath it, and when Namjoon’s fingers came and tangled in his hair, Jungkook moaned loudly.

Namjoon let out a breathy laugh.

“You’re so sensitive, I never would have guessed.”

Jungkook didn’t know what to say in return, so he just arched more, felt Namjoon press closer, felt Namjoon’s cock rub up the crease of his ass as a hand gripped tighter into his freshly washed hair.

They weren’t gonna fuck, but Jungkook rolled his hips against the length anyways, giving Namjoon a taste of what would come one day. Namjoon hissed.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

Namjoon truly sounded awed, and Jungkook rocked back against him harder, grinding his ass to where Namjoon needed it, revelling in the way Namjoon tugged at his hair.

“Me either. Thought you were gonna fire me.”

“Why would I fire you?”

“Because I suck,” Jungkook flinched at the feeling of Namjoon’s hand carding through his hair, down his nape, fingers coming to trace the edge of his clenched jaw. “I break everything, even when I do my best to be c-careful—”

“I thought you were doing it on purpose. Like, trying to get a rise outta me.”

“Really?”

Jungkook flinched again at the feeling of fingers slipping between his ass cheeks from over soft cloth, felt his face burn with the pinks that bloomed there.

Namjoon’s breathing had gotten heavier, panting loudly as he traced where he knew Jungkook’s hole was, pressing gently, the other hand still teasing at Jungkook’s throat.

“I dunno,” Namjoon continued, ever the tease, voice rumbling like thunder. “Kinda wanted that to be the case I guess. Kinda hot to think about.”

Ah, it was kinda hot.

“Want me to be bad for you?” Jungkook questioned, voice shy but lilted with the hint of an attitude. “Want me to talk back?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon’s words were strained, like he wanted nothing more. “But another time? Let’s do stuff like normal people first. Kinks can come later.”

“‘Kay.”

Jungkook wasn’t usually so nervous when it came to sex, like the horny overpowered his shy nature, like his dick overruled his mind, but he was fucking nervous now, as Namjoon started to pull down those soft borrowed pants.

So nervous, slamming his eyes shut, holding his breath inside his chest.

Namjoon gasped.

“Fuck.”

“W-what’s wrong?” Jungkook didn’t want to move, felt terrified, wondered if Namjoon was changing his mind, but the hands coming to grip his ass, prying him apart proved otherwise. Namjoon practically whined.

“Fuck,” the older man uttered again. “This is what you were hiding beneath those hideous cargo pants? These fucking thighs? Jungkook, Jesus Christ.”

Oh, right, Jungkook’s pride and joy. His thighs.

Jungkook liked to work out, found peace in the monotony of it, found it relaxing to break out a sweat and push his body to the max. It was never really for a great body, honestly, but that’s what came with it, and Jungkook had no complaints. Nor did Namjoon, it seemed.

There was reverence in his tone, as Namjoon’s hands slid down his tensed thighs, and Jungkook’s breath hitched as they traced inward, stroking the softness where his legs were spread, fingertips ghosting up his balls, what felt like a thumb pressing gently against his hole.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Then Namjoon slapped him, on the right ass cheek, not hard but enough for Jungkook to moan from the sting.

“You’re so fucking hot, Jungkook—”

Jungkook could feel the scrape of teeth across the swell of his ass, could feel warm lips and tongue as Namjoon sucked, and he couldn’t wiggle, held flush to the couch by strong hands, taking whatever Namjoon gave him.

The hot kisses trailed down and down, down his thighs to suck there too, hard enough to pull whimpers from Jungkook’s parted lips, hard enough to leave behind dark reminders, and Jungkook felt his cock jerk against his tummy at the thought, trapped there against couch cushions.

Namjoon groaned, and Jungkook felt the groan, felt it vibrate right through his muscle to reach where heat pooled beneath his navel, sending tremors racing through his body. He’d never let anyone put their face down there like this—and he wasn’t sure what to expect at all.

Jungkook worried it would tickle, worried it might feel even feel gross. Jungkook worried that he might have to ask Namjoon to stop, and see Namjoon’s disappointment in a way that would hurt him the most.

But Namjoon was asking permission again, and Jungkook gave it with a breathy “yes”, eyes fluttering shut, waiting as his heart raced and his cock twitched.

And that was the moment when Jungkook’s entire world changed.

The first lick to the tight ring of muscle had Jungkook jerking forward, a startled gasp slipping up his throat, but Namjoon sighed and pulled him back, prying his ass cheeks apart to drag his tongue past Jungkook’s rim once more.

Holy shit.

“Ohh,” Jungkook felt his entire body shudder, felt drool start to pool inside his mouth fast. “Fuck.”

Namjoon didn’t reply with words, only let out a small grunt before that perfect tongue lapped at Jungkook’s hole again and again, slow, harsh licks that had Jungkook unravelling like a ball of yarn, and Jungkook couldn’t swallow the mewling, couldn’t hold back his sounds.

He could feel everything, the way Namjoon’s mouth was making him wet and sticky, the way Namjoon’s nose was buried in the crease of his ass.

The sounds were intense too, soft, slick licks paired with Namjoon’s small groans, like he was the one being pleasured, like this was for him and not for the younger pinned to the couch.

And then that hot tongue was pressing harsher, slowly slipping through the tight wet muscle, and Jungkook sobbed, hands clenched tight to the fleece of the borrowed shirt, lips parting wide to make drool spill and leave a puddle beneath his face.

Oh my god, it felt so good.

“Joon,” Jungkook whined and canted his hips back gently, wanting Namjoon deeper, wanting to feel more of Namjoon’s tongue. “Fuck, Namjoon—”

Namjoon smiled from the words, smiled as he licked and sucked, lewd sounds making Jungkook ache between his shuddering thighs, making him wish he could touch.

Namjoon beat him to it though, sliding a palm between Jungkook’s legs, beneath his cock, resting his hand between Jungkook and the couch as an invitation that Jungkook would never pass up.

So, he rocked himself against Namjoon’s hand, back, forth, and whined.

“I’ll cum,” Jungkook babbled, tears stinging in the corners of his eyes as he rutted into Namjoon’s warm hand, so overwhelmed being touched like this by his boss, tongue buried in his ass, fingers cupping his cock. “I’ll cum, I’ll c-cum, I’ll cum—”

“Good,” Namjoon’s voice was raspy, as fucked out as Jungkook felt. “Do it.”

Jungkook sobbed again, toes curling into the carpet as Namjoon resumed eating him out, the hand between Jungkook’s thighs now curling around his length loosely.

There was so much precum that fucking into Namjoon’s grip was so easy it was almost humiliating, but Namjoon was panting against him, hot breath against his hole making every inch of Jungkook’s skin break out in goosebumps.

Every time the tip of that strong muscle dipped inside Jungkook, he squirmed and felt tears leak down his flushed face, felt them mingle with the spit that bubbled in the corners of his lips.

Jungkook felt his whole body follow, pushing back when Namjoon pulled away, curling in tight when Namjoon breached him once more.

It was beyond any expectations, to be eaten out, and Jungkook knew he would never get enough of Namjoon’s mouth opening him up like this, that nothing would ever compare—

Until the hand on his ass slid down, and a thumb was pressing to his hole gently.

The tip slipped in alongside Namjoon’s tongue, burning a little but in a way that had Jungkook’s eyes rolling to the back of his skull, and then his hips were shuddering, jerking, cock spilling mess into Namjoon’s clenched hand.

“Shit,” Jungkook wailed, the pitch of his voice jumping and cracking. “Oh god, ah, ‘m sorry—”

“Shh, ‘s fine,” Namjoon slipped himself out from between Jungkook’s thighs, hands wiped against what sounded like his own trousers, before coming to cradle the younger man gently, guiding him back into strong arms. “Jungkook?”

Jungkook was crying, palms pressed to his eyes, curling up into Namjoon’s lap as the elder rubbed down his shaking back.

“I came on y-your couch—”

“That’s okay,” Namjoon’s touch was comforting, tracing a pattern up his spine and back. “I don’t mind. Is that why you’re crying? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” Jungkook sniffled, ashamed, feeling his cock soft and sticky between his thighs. “Felt so nice.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“It was so fucking good, I can’t believe I c-came so fast.”

“Aww,” Namjoon cooed, forcing Jungkook to glance up now, smiling wide, dimpled and bright eyed. “Is that why you’re being a big baby? Are you embarrassed?”

“Yes.”

Namjoon brushed the hair from Jungkook’s face, eyes creasing, cuddling him closer. 

“You’re so cute.”

“I’m not.”

“So, so cute. Cutest boy in the world.”

Jungkook pouted.

“Kiss me?”

Namjoon grinned.

“Lemme brush my teeth first, hey? You wanna stay the night?”

Jungkook wanted that more than anything, nodding with wide eyes. Namjoon held him tight.

“We can even close the store tomorrow, and watch movies, what do you say? I think this storm might keep up for a while.”

That sounded like heaven.

Namjoon brushed his teeth, returned with a new set of equally as fleecy pajamas for Jungkook to borrow, and kissed him softly, twice, noses brushing past one another.

“Love you,” Namjoon whispered, breath tasting like peppermint.

Jungkook grabbed Namjoon, pulled him close, and never wanted to let go.

“Love you too.”

✨✨✨✨THE END ✨✨✨✨

Thank's for reading guys ;-; I hope you liked it!!