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jungkookie
teo, 17.
jungkook, sehun, red velvet addiction ♡
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glasses-clad boy ↣ requested.
(gif by: lilac panther)
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pairing | namjoon x reader
word count | 10k
genre | college au. smut. fluff.
warnings | explicit language and sexual content.
summary | You weren’t sure how Hoseok had persuaded you into actually letting Namjoon tutor you but there you were, waiting for a certain glasses-clad boy to show up.
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This was a request and if you’d like to see your own come to life, please shoot me an ask, here. They’re always welcome and greatly appreciated! :)
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Tethering the pencil between your teeth, your brows furrowed as your eyes scanned the words of your essay on a blindingly bright computer screen, over and over again. You gulped, removing the pencil from your mouth as you silently cursed yourself for not listening to Hoseok when he insisted you attend the study groups leading up to this midterm paper.
“Ah, shit.” You mumbled under your breath, eyes blinking at the words you had written. The letters danced back at you in a displayed taunt, trying to persuade you into second-guessing yourself. Your mind blanked from any content you had tried to study alone, the loose leaf paper laid in front of you—jotted with your brain vomit but proferring itself useless. The library you were sat in was as distracting as it was quiet, the clitter-clatter of other students typing away confidently let you know that they clearly had more knowledge over what they were doing far greater than yourself. You tried to prepare to write for this paper, you really did but that new Netflix show was just so good— you had to finish the first season…perhaps the second as well.
Truthfully, you were lazy and most of the time all you wanted to do was sleep or mindlessly scroll through hours of social media, falling into the pit of all your insecurities caused by people living a much more pleasant life than you. Writing only came to you when you had the surging inspiration to do it; you were useless otherwise. And now, there you were, with less than a week to write this damn essay as the tick of the second’s hand echoed noisily from the clock that stood just above the fireplace a few feet behind you.
Straightening your spine, you twirled your pencil between your index and middle finger before clearing your throat.
You read your words again.
“In the end, we reach the mirage and it becomes our reality. The fearsome desert becomes the ocean with our blood, sweat and tears. But why do humans often let fear come in between happiness? In Socrates words’, ‘I was afraid that by observing objects with my eyes and trying to comprehend them with each of my other senses I might blind my soul altogether.’ We treat—”
Your immersion deflected as your peripheral caught a glance of a shadow walk past you. You stiffened, letting the gust of air that followed the figure’s arrival hit you with a scent of white musk cologne. Shuddering as the chill hit your spine, the second floor of the library seemed to have dropped ten degrees lower in temperature. You tried to will yourself from not looking up, putting your efforts to concentrate on the words blinking back at you but you couldn’t help but give in to your curious brain as you looked up past your laptop to see none other than Kim Namjoon occupy the empty table right across from yours.
The open-planned sky roof of the some, hundred-year-old building that was your university’s library, allowed the autumn sunlight to bounce off Namjoon’s honey locks. He raked his slender fingers through them while a free hand dug through the pockets of his sweatpants-clad legs in search of his earphones. He was faced away from you, gently lifting the black, Herschel crossbody bag off his shoulder, granting you a delightful visual of the rear of his grey t-shirt stretching around his shoulder blades. Placing the bag on the table, he opened the flap of his bag to pull out his own laptop before retracting the chair away from the table to finally have a seat facing towards you. You followed his movements, eyes trailing down to his exposed, tanned arm when they tensely flexed as he coolly lifted his laptop screen open and snuggly secured an earbud into his right ear.
You knew of Kim Namjoon from various different outlets— the first being from attending the same philosophy class as him. He had written a breathtaking piece on what it truly meant to live a fulfilled life of happiness in a time where social media tainted the authenticity of people—linking it to some of Plato’s passages. It earned him the title as Professor Jinhwan’s favourite student and it was the first time you took notice to him as you listened to his natural vibrato voice when he read it out loud in class—that was a year ago.
It wasn’t until your dear friend, Hoseok, started mentioning his name where you put two and two together, realizing that it was indeed, that Namjoon that he had been talking about. They were friends long before you and Hoseok had even met, through multiple summers of interning at some software brand named Big Hit. It always struck you as odd that Namjoon, a software engineering student would choose something as intricate as philosophy to study as a minor. Granted, you also took philosophy as a minor, however; it would have been dotish of you to not take it alongside your History major—they went hand in hand. Namjoon was a completely different story. You’d never really talked to him and you were certain he only knew of your existence from the brief mentions of your name Hoseok would drop but you doubted he cared for anything beyond that tidbit of information.
Namjoon was very good looking, that was no secret, as you’d witness the number of girls that would swoon just from the sight of him. It certainly didn’t help that he was incredibly intelligent, aiding the fact that girls would drop to their knees in front of him in a heartbeat if given the chance. Before even becoming acquainted with Hoseok, you heard through hushed mumbles floating around campus that Kim Namjoon—the boy who came in the top 1% in the entirety of South Korea after taking the CSAT exams—was going to be attending the same university as you. But, moving forward with your friendship with Hoseok, you learned that Namjoon wasn’t much of a lady pleaser anyway. He preferred to have his face stuffed between the pages of a book rather than the legs of a woman. It was almost endearing if you didn’t think it was also a shame that he would waste such a pretty face. Even you had to admit it to yourself that the man was a sight to behold, as you stared at him, seated across from where he assiduously typed away on his laptop—god, you were the creepiest person alive.
You peered past your screen as you observed the way Namjoon’s chin jutted out in deep concentration as he nimbly worked away on what you would assume to be the same paper as you or maybe it was a project from one of his engineering courses—you didn’t know. When his movements suddenly stopped, your eyes travelled back up to the black frames atop his nose, only to meet his own curious gaze. Your eyes widened, snapped away from his piercing stare. A hand came up to shadow your face as your head dropped down to your lap. You felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment, fingernails digging into your palms because he definitely saw you staring and the thought of it alone made you have no doubt in your mind that your face was tomato red by now. Snagging your bottom lip between your teeth, you rearranged yourself to focus back on finishing the remainder of your essay, not daring to look back up as you felt the burn of the glasses-clad boy’s gaze remained stoic upon you.
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[request]
↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ 📰⌇ sunmi aesthetic packs ๑´ ³`)ﾉ♥
🔐₎ ˀˀ … like or reblog if u use please !! ˎˊ˗
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♡ Jinsoul ︱ PACK︱ ♡
➝ If you save please like or reblog.
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☕️ like or reblog if save something ☕️ ☕️ credit to @palettesjin on twitter ☕️
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⋯ loona’s jinsoul packs ♡ᵎ
• like or reblog if you save/use
© @wujumoo on twitter
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₍☕️₎ˀ 𝒋𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 ..⃗. 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒂
“𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔”
𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆/𝒖𝒔𝒆
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❄ › like or reblog if you use/save ‧ ‧ ‧ © oddeyecircus
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jinseok ( boys24 ) icons // like or reblog if you use. ♡
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Never Ever-Yugyeom(M)
Request: if your requests aren’t closed,, i have one! yugyeom smut - hard dom, degradation, hair pulling, spanking, daddy kink, makeup/angry sex, thigh riding, light choking, is that isn’t too much?? tysm bb :))
Words: 2,237
Angry words echoed throughout the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, Yugyeom. The day had started fine, cuddling all morning in bed because you didn’t want to get up and move, watching movies until you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore and had to take a nap, and eating takeout while trying not to drop anything on the blankets. It was what you and Yugyeom loved to do when he had a free day and wanted to spend time with you. But everything went south when you found one of his shirts that you’d never seen before that had makeup on it while he was in the shower.
You had waited in the bedroom, hearing the water turn off and the door opened, revealing your boyfriend in nothing but a towel. Even when you were completely pissed off and seeing red, there was nothing you wanted to do more than just fuck your anger out and hear his excuses later. But, you stayed strong and stood up, holding the shirt out.
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Sunday Morning with Namjoon.
(gif + art by: missbrutus)
pairing | namjoon x reader
word count | 3.8k
genre | fluff. smut.
warnings | explicit sexual content.
summary | a cozy, not so innocent morning with namjoon.
“You are impeccable.” Namjoon’s lips felt like honey as they skimmed past your jaw and down to your neck; they were sickly sweet and thick with lust leaving you writhing underneath his taut, sun-kissed arms. What you had expected to be an innocent Sunday morning full of cuddling and cursory kisses, turned into an ungodly change of events. Your head fell deeper into your pillow, eyes screwing shut to relish in his every touch. His fingers moved accurately, no doubt in your mind that he had knowledge over your thinning patience as he made slow, deliberate strokes up and down the sides of your waist.
“Divine,” He mumbled, his mouth now latching onto your left clavicle, teeth scraping gently before sucking on the exposed collarbone. He pushed a knee in between your bare legs, signaling them to open and you instantly fed into his silent command in hopes of relieving your aching center from his torturous ministrations.
“Namjoon…” You whimpered, eyes fluttering open when a large hand stopped your hips from pushing your clothed, throbbing clit up against the erection behind his boxers. Your fingers tangled into his golden locks and gently pulled, detaching his lips away from the tops of your breasts. You felt your panties drench even further as his dark eyes met yours, a tongue darting out to wet his full, pink pout. “Please,” your voice came out in whispers, too thick with desire to speak normally. “I want you.” You managed to croak.
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Jamming to Oh My Girl’s “Coloring Book” in their IG Live
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