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Talk about love (and where it’s begins).

Summary:

Namjoon’s lips curve into a devastating grin, dimples and all. “You’re wrong about that. You can do both, you can be an amazing parent and you can be an amazing husband. You’ve been doing so always, just so you know. Minseo adores you, and so do I. Nobody is feeling neglected anywhere, baby. You’re being hard on yourself for no reason.”

 

“Yeah,” Jimin breathes, chest light as though he’s just cleared his head above water after attempting to drown himself. “I...that’s exactly it.”

 

Or: Jimin and Namjoon are raising a six year old together and sometimes things get hard to balance.

Notes:

[Stressed babie noises]

This was supposed to be 5k words.

BUT ! Happy birthday to the wonderful Sarah <3 I hope you enjoy this day and that this ........mini monster of a fic is everything you could’ve wanted and more :3

 

Please,,,,,,, I am about 80% sure that whatever I wrote here I won’t remember tomorrow, so if there’s anything you catch that doesn’t make sense right now then disregard it until I get it betaed :<

 

PS: Minjoon live in America; though the city is not disclosed, in my head I thought of the little town where my mom lives in, which obv I cant disclose, but I promise is nice :3

K’ enjoy two dads being the best they can be <3

Work Text:

 



It's seven in the morning on a Saturday, and instead of sleeping, Minseo, their six year old, is up bright and early, which means for Jimin and Namjoon as her parents that they’re up bright and early, too.

Jimin stands by the kitchen, eyes heavy with sleep, looking at a very familiar scene. Namjoon, his husband, lay beside their little girl, intently coloring a torn page from her notebook whilst she tells him which colors the unicorn should go.

“I’m not sure the horn should be multicolored, honey.” Namjoon tells Minseo amids a yawn. His hair is up at odds and ends, and as Jimin stares at him more alert, he notices that his husband is in dire need of a retouch; the red now fading into a subtle shade of copper.

Next to her dad, who’s always looked a little rough around the edges with roughly 80% of his body covered in a variant of tattoos and piercings, minseo couldn’t look any different if she tried. At six years old she’s tiny for her age, has thick, but soft black hair and full cheeks, not to mention heavy lidded eyes and thick lashes. All in all, very much baby faced, and very much into anything pink she can find. She’s wearing her favorite pajamas, a onesie with cat ears, courtesy of Yoongi, who will find any moment to wrangle their daughter into anything resembling a cat.

“Representation matters,” Jimin can hear him drawl, as though he’s right there and not next door, undoubtedly asleep.

Jimin watches them for a while longer, his chest impossibly full of warmth, too crowded for his poor heart to contain. Because minseo is staring at her father’s unicorn with the same intensity Namjoon takes on when he’s assessing something of his own doing.

“Well daddy, she’s a special unicorn,” she says, still very much sleepy, but spooked to go back to bed just yet.

Jimin pipes in, sending a little wink towards Minseo, as though telling her he’s got her back on this one, which prompts the sweetest of giggles out of her. Armed with that, Jimin feels like he can take on the whole world. “Yeah daddy, she’s a special unicorn. Give her horn as many colors that’ll fit.”

Namjoon sends him a fond look. He’s never been able to resist Minseo on her own, nevermind when Jimin joins in. He’s a simple man with a big, gooey heart.

“Fine,” he sighs, nudging Minseo gently, “Hand me another crayon. We’re going in on this. Why don't you tell daddy what’s got you up so early, huh?”

At first there’s silence, and Jimin lingers by the hall, afraid to leave. Sometimes Minseo doesn't open up easily without him, because she’s shy and not too good at expressing herself alone, and usually needs Jimin nearby to give her the courage to do so, even if it's to Namjoon.

Jimin finds her looking at him, lips jutted into a fretful pout. He sends her a small nod, and crosses into the living room to hunker down and open his arms in time for her to settle in. Soft fingers card through her hair ease whatever makes her nervous, and within seconds of hushed assurances that she can talk about whatever is bothering her, she relaxes enough to tell them.

It’s simple enough to understand, and Both he and Namjoon listen attentively to Minseo disclose how she’s afraid of the dark and swears there are monsters under her bed that come out as soon as the lights go off.

“Well lucky for you that daddy is a superhero in his spare time,” Namjoon tells her, puffing his chest. He’s wearing loose sweatpants and doesn't have a shirt on; a smattering of dark ink trailing from his collarbones, down his chest. Amidst them, under his chest are a pair of Hands; Jimin’s and Minseo’s, because Namjoon is a softy at heart and wants to keep them close at all times. Jimin studies him whilst he takes on a low, theatrical tone of voice, up on his feet and wielding a crayon in his hand as though it is a mighty sword. “Leave em’ to me, honey, I’ll get rid of em’ in no time.”

“Right, and when he runs off,” Jimin drawls teasingly, tickling under Minseo’s chin, “I’ll be there to chase them away and make sure they never come back.”

“Daddy’s so funny!” She squeals, hiding against Jimin’s chest and nuzzling into his sweater.

“Daddy is funny, right? He’s also silly.” Jimin declares, shooting Namjoon a warm smile. “He’s gonna finish coloring with you and I’m gonna’ make breakfast, ok?”

“...kay,” Minseo mutters, staring between them both before giving a small nod. She smacks a loud, wet kiss on Jimin’s cheek before toddling off towards Namjoon to resume their coloring.

Jimin hums a quiet song to himself, then leaves them to it, ambling towards the kitchen to get started on breakfast, padding his bare feet across the flooring. But first, some tea. He and namjoon swore off coffee years ago, but have become so dependent on tea in the mornings that they can’t function without it.

It's raining outside, which stumps any plans they would have made to take Minseo to the park. Jimin thinks it's the perfect weather to have a movie marathon, and will bring it up to Namjoon later. He’ll most likely head off to the store to get snacks, then call the house phone for help, because he always forgets which crackers Minseo likes and will panic in the snack aisle if left unsupervised.

“Hmmm, we could stream a movie, or we could go out to see one later,” Jimin murmurs as he turns the stove on, picking up on the sound of Namjoon and Minseo laughing in the living room. There’s a debate on whether the body of said unicorn should be pink or yellow. It's chilly inside the house due to the slight draft from the weather, but perfect for tea, and so Jimin places the kettle over the flame and turns away.

He busies in checking the refrigerator, wondering what he’ll make for breakfast today whilst also weighing the pros and cons of going out rather than staying in. A quick glance inside the fridge shows they’ll have to do groceries tomorrow before the school week starts and they're off to work, but thankfully they're stocked with what he’ll need for breakfast, like eggs, vegetables and fresh fruits. Namjoon’s a simple, and not too fussy kind of eater so he won’t deny anything he’s given to eat, but Minseo is tricky and won’t eat her porridge unless there’s a promise of fruits later.

Jimin is lost to his musings as he switches between packing rice into the cooker, chopping vegetables and fruits and gathering mugs for the tea, when he hears Namjoon call out for him very softly.

It dawns on him that the house has gone silent, too, which can only mean one thing.

Dropping his dish towel onto the counter after a quick wash of his hands, Jimin ventures into the living room, and presses a hand to his chest. “Oh baby, she knocked out, huh?”

Minseo is no longer discussing the reasons why unicorns should be yellow or why princesses need swords or laser beam eyes. She’s fallen asleep, tucked against Namjoon’s chest, her own rising and falling the way leaves sway on their branches, little hand clutching a green crayon.

As usual, whatever troubled her stood no match against the heroes of her stories; her dads.

“She was pretty tired to begin with,” Namjoon says, peering down at her. She makes a soft sound, akin to a little snore and curls into his chest, just beneath the hands etched onto his skin. “Just restless.”

“We need to get her a night light,” Jimin remarks, “She’s been like this for a while. It's obvious she’s afraid of the dark.”

Namjoon nods at his, expression unreadable. He worries too much, and it gets the better of him. The crease of his brows softens when Jimin smoothie his thumb between them, touching softly. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll pick one up today.”

“Good,” Jimin says, “Now, off to bed you go. Love you so much, Minnie Mouse. Sleep tight.”Coming in close, he presses a soft kiss against her forehead. Namjoon nuzzles against Jimin’s forehead, holding onto Minseo carefully, as to not jostle her too much.

“I’m gonna put her in bed, then I’ll be back,” Namjoon trails off, lips grazing against Jimin’s hair. “We can go back to bed for a while too if you want.”

Jimin pulls back to run his gaze across namjoon’s face, humming low. He eases away, all the while holding Namjoon’s gaze. “Nice try, hotshot, but I’ve already started breakfast.”

Namjoon feigns a sigh, but doesn’t protest, and instead throws a wink over his shoulder at Jimin before he steps further down the hallway and disappears inside Minseo’s bedroom.

Jimin stares after him, then ambles to the kitchen just in time for the kettle to start whistling. It doesn’t take long for Namjoon to return; he’s there, coming close and pressing up against Jimin’s back just as he’s finished preparing each mug.

Namjoon doesn't outright reach for his just yet, content to linger in comfortable silence with Jimin for a little while, gently swaying them from side to side. Everything moves slower once Minseo is asleep, as though she takes all the energy with her to sleep.

Ever since their first few years of dating, when things got serious and what began as a relationship in the madness that was university became something more, they’d always talked about children and how they’d go about it if such a thing was ever in the cards for them. At the time it all seemed impossible to Jimin, who worked at barely minimum wage, plus got help from his parents in order to pay for his classes and juggle adulthood, including the nude modeling where he happened to have met Namjoon, who taught a class on his own private time for extra money, to even consider such a thing.

Namjoon, however, has always been an idealist, and even then, when their future was uncertain, he didn’t give up on the thought. On the contrary, he threw himself into his studies and his jobs and even completed his military service without a single complaint, determined to make something grand of himself so that if such a day came, not only would he be deserving of marrying Jimin (as he stressed) but he’d also be an excellent parent no matter what it took.

And Jimin had always been weak for a man who knew what he wanted and went for it, so he decided he wouldn't give up either.

They’d soon realized that their expectations of the real world versus how the real world actually is were two different things. Not only was same-sex marriage not legal in their country, but the adoption process was a whole other ball field, full of hoops they had to jump through, as well as a waiting list that seemed impossible to get considered for.

And so, with pain in their hearts, and degrees freshly handed to them, Jimin and Namjoon made a plan. They’d leave their home, armed with their meager, but still better than nothing, savings, and find somewhere else they could be together and make a family.

Fast forward some years, a lot of bumps in the road, and even more nights spent wondering if they’d made a mistake in chasing after something seemingly impossible, Jimin and Namjoon are not only married, but they’d finally gotten the phone call they’d been waiting for.

Their petition to adopt Minseo had been considered and approved, and she could come home with them right away. Becoming a parent overnight isn’t the easiest thing,  but they’d spent months preparing for this even when chances were slim because Jimin refused to be a bad parent, Namjoon no different. They’d attended seminars, purchased books, and educated them as much as they could until the day had come.

Jimin thinks of the day they picked up Minseo at the airport. A trip overseas had been sudden and pricey on such short notice, but Jimin didn’t care. Once he’d gotten that phone call, he’d become a man on a mission, a new dad determined to get his baby regardless of however many hoops needed to be jumped through.

At first, Minseo was shy, and hesitant to touch anything despite everything inside their home being hers, but they’d given her space to get used to them, hadn’t rushed the process even when it was hard on Jimin seeing Minseo take quicker to Namjoon than to him.

But, he’s always been very patient when it came to children, which is why he’d become a ballet instructor. It took a few months of awkwardness inside the house, especially during the transition of teaching Minseo how American customs worked whilst also ensuring she didn’t forget their culture as well, until one day, when Jimin least expected it, after picking up Minseo at school, she’d curled up next to him and asked if he wanted to color.

Namjoon arrived home from where he’s still teaching to this day to find Jimin in tears inside the kitchen, so relieved that their daughter didn’t hate him.

Fast forward to now, and things are finally settled. Minseo is as comfortable as can be, bright-eyed and every bit as happy as Jimin and Namjoon wanted for her. She’s at the top of her first-grade class, loves drawing on any available surface she can find, and constantly gets into trouble because she just loves to make friends and chat with everyone around her.

Jimin and Namjoon adore her spirit and her fiery temper, too. Which is why the house feels painfully still when she's not there or asleep.

With a deep sigh, Jimin sags into Namjoon, craning his neck in order to grant his husband space to brush the softest of kisses down his jaw and throat. Not enough to start anything they can't finish, but enough to leave a simmering heat pooling low in his belly at the thought of what they could be doing.

“Baby, your tea’s gonna’ get cold if you don't move.” Jimin breathes, and yet makes no move to pull away from Namjoon and his wandering hands. They smooth down his back, fingers ticklish in skirting beneath his shirt to circle his hips and move lower, scraping gently against the faint trail of hair that leads from his navel, towards between his thighs. Jimin shivers, a faint groan leaving his lips. “Namjoon, we have to eat.”

Namjoon’s responding grin melts a little off Jimin’s resolve. Not enough to say yes, but enough to arch into his touch; the faint squeeze of his palm over his cock through his sweatpants almost ticklish with how light it feels. “Not really hungry for food, you know?”

Despite himself, Jimin giggles, more air than sound. He’s conscious of every little movement, from the warmth of Namjoon’s skin against his, down to his steady breathing against the shell of his ear and the half-hard swell of his cock pressing in on his hip.

Jimin licks his lips, struggling to focus. He’s aware that if they don't move, they will fuck in this kitchen, and not only is that bad due to the risk of getting caught, but it’s also bad due to the fact that if they don't do so now, they won't have any time later, as Minseo keeps them busy.

It’s with this thought, that Jimin slows his breathing and pulls away. Namjoon whines like he’s been punished for doing something bad, and cages Jimin up against the counter, hoisting him up by curving both hands under his ass to sit him by the edge.

“Kiss first, breakfast later.” He whispers, eyes gleaming with dark promise.

Everything moves faster the moment he’s leaning in, grasping Jimin’s chin to tilt it forward in time for their lips to meet. Jimin bites back a moan, sinking into Namjoon’s touch until he’s not certain where he begins and where Namjoon ends. Licking into his mouth, he’s nothing but feeling, raking blunt nails down Namjoon’s back as his husband bites the curve of his lower lip and suckles it.

Jimin is unaware of how much time passes between them, dizzied between Namjoon’s kiss and Namjoon’s hands. His husband shoves a hard thigh between his legs, and Jimin, against his own inhibitions, grinds up against it, his cock stirring between his thighs. Hurting so good, but not enough to get him really going.

A taste of what it’s really like between them during those rare moments they get to spend alone.

With a hard gasp, Jimin pulls away, licking kiss swollen lips and tipping his head back. He’s got a hand fisting his t-shirt so its up and out of the way, the other holding onto Namjoon’s shoulder whilst he urges his thigh higher and rubs over his cock.

“We can be quick,” he purrs, soft hands trailing down Jimin’s stomach, fingers dipping into the band of his sweatpants in order to pull out his cock. His hand feels warm, and Jimin whimpers when it curls around him and begins to stroke languidly, pulling the foreskin back to expose the tip.

Being silent is hard, especially like this, bent over the counter, pants bunched under his ass, as Namjoon’s free hand trails down his spine and Jimin muffles his cries by biting his shirt and whining into the fabric.

 

“This is a bad idea,” Jimin groans, but bends under Namjoon’s watch, content to be crowded by his husband as he laces kisses against his nape. His fingers are long and teasing, and when they stop just shy of Jimin’s hole, he shudders.

 

In hindsight, he should’ve known this would’ve ended like this the moment Namjoon suggested they return to bed.

 

“Where’s your spark, baby? You love bad ideas. Remember that one time you screamed so loud that the neighbors thought we'd gotten into an argument for like a week?” Namjoon breathes, just before he brings two fingers up and presses them against the seam of Jimin’s lips. “Suck.”

 

Jimin’s resounding whimper is lost in sensation, but he does sigh deeply once he parts his lips and suckles Namjoon’s fingers. Down to the knuckle, he licks across each the way he knows Namjoon likes when it’s his cock instead.

 

Hot waves of pleasure burn low in his groin, building and building with each second that ticks by. Namjoon’s hand around his cock tightens, then trails lower, fingers gentle in cupping his balls and rolling them.

 

Jimin's breath hitches, and with a wet gasp, Namjoon’s fingers slip past his mouth, a string of saliva lingering from his fingertips and connected to Jimin’s lower lip.

 

Hurry,” Jimin gasps, skin baked in sweat. Leaning heavily against the counter, his thighs trembling and his cock steadily becoming wetter with precum. Forehead pressed against the counter, which feels cool against his hot skin, he wriggles in Namjoon’s grasp. “Baby, just hurry. Do something, Please .”

 

“Tchh, for someone so against it you sure are being needy,” Namjoon says. He’s pleased with Jimin’s resounding huff once his hand parts from his cock, bringing wet fingers low, free hand squeezing his ass just as he circles the rim.

 

Jimin can’t find it in him to protest, let alone say a thing to Namjoon, too consumed in the feeling of having those two fingers sinking inside him, straight to the knuckle. His toes curl, Namjoon’s fingers thick enough to stretch and long enough to graze his prostate just as the gland begins to swell.

 

Writhing in place, Jimin begins to push back, fucking himself onto the two fingers massaging deep inside him, heat bursting all around him. Sweat beads along his hairline, the cool temperature inside their house doing nothing to quell the raging heat simmering in his veins and expelling from his body.

 

Namjoon brings his lips to the shell of Jimin’s ear, licks in and moans softly; the sound rich and sending a tremor through Jimin’s body. A low groan escapes him, which he muffles with a shaky hand, as Namjoon’s fingers relentlessly begin to circle and scissor around his prostate.

 

“Fuck,”Jimin whispers, muffled against his t-shirt that he bites in order to stay somewhat silent. He’s melting under the pressure against his body, the ache in his heavy cock as it slaps against his stomach and drips precum steadily against his skin. When namjoon brings a spit slick hand towards his leaking cock, Jimin trembles, stomach tensing at the sudden heat encompassing the swollen red head.

 

“You gonna’ come?” Namjoon rasps against him, filthy and sweet as he whispers against Jimin’s ear how the next moment alone they have will end up with Jimin stretched open with his cock. His body bathed in sweat and warmth that clings to every inch of Jimin’s. Jimin grunts in response, torn between thrusting into his husband's slick fist around his dick, or fucking onto his fingers.

 

It all becomes too much, and he can't think clearly, can’t see past the haze in his vision or the shudder working it's way up to his spine.

 

“I’m gonna’ come,” he moans weakly, body heavy and languid as he attempts to stand, only to be pressed flush to Namjoon; his cock resting heavily against Jimin’s hip. They meet in a tangle of lips and tongue, as Namjoon nudges them closer. Jimin’s body feels like a livewire poised to snap at the feel of having Namjoon inside him and out; his fist jerking over his cock at the same time his fingers scissor against his prostate.

 

It all cuts to white noise for Jimin, and he’s certain that if not for Namjoon keeping his mouth otherwise occupied, he’d moan much too loud as he starts cumming. Thick drops of cum drip past his cock, over the back of Namjoon’s knuckles and against his pubic hair.

 

Namjoon works him through it, his fingers inside him slowing to a grind, drawing every last drop of cum Jimin can muster so quickly. His body jolts as Namjoon’s fist continued to steadily work down his cock, which was oh so sensitive and wet, the slick sounds downright lewd.

 

Jimin blushes then sucks in a sharp breath when the pleasure blurs into oversensitivity, knocking Namjoon’s hand away from his cock before he passes out. If they’d been alone Jimin wouldn’t care and would indulge in more intense play, but as it happens these days, they're in a rush.

 

With as much finesse as he can muster, which isn’t much, Jimin reaches behind them, curls a hand over Namjoon’s sweats and jerks them low, enough to feel the wet tip of his cockhead press against his fingertips.

 

Breathless, because he can't ever get over the size of Namjoon nor how he loves the way he fills him, Jimin says, “I...I wanna make you come, too.”

 

Namjoon seems busy bringing slick fingers into his mouth to answer, just gives a low grunt of approval, then allows himself to be guided onto the ground, Jimin now scrambling to rid his husband out of his pants quickly. “Eager, huh? We aren’t gonna eat breakfast I guess.”

 

Jimin sends him a weak glare, just as he manages to work one of Namjoon’s legs out of his sweatpants. His husband isn’t exactly muscled, but he’s firm and slim, with soft skin that dimples around his stomach when Jimin’s fingers dig into it. He finds it hard to concentrate on the task at hand, which is making Namjoon come, especially when the ink traveling down his skin ends just above his groin, where a faint trail of hair leads to his cock.

 

Jimin curls a hand around the shaft, savoring the weight of it. Namjoon’s cock isn’t long, but it's thick and he gets hard so quickly, sometimes off Jimin whispering dirty things in his ear whilst they're asleep.

 

“Maybe you’re not eating,” he murmurs with a lilting smirk, angling Namjoon’s cock off his stomach and towards his parted lips. “But I am. Now pipe down darling, I’m hungry.”

 

Namjoon lets out a frustrated sigh, that soon dissolves into a breathless sigh, as though this is just what he needs. And maybe, they do. Their life is a constant marathon between parenting and working, that sometimes even a small moment they can share amidst the chaos, is more than enough.

 

It's never a dull morning inside their house, that’s for sure.






———






“Namjoon honey, I just don't think that’s necessary.”

 

Namjoon fitfully ignores Jimin, as well as the curious looks given to them by bystanders, unphased by it all, as though it is perfectly normal to show up to their daughter’s ballet recital with a large sign in tow; one that’s glittered, too.

 

“She’s gonna love it,” He says, cradling the sign against his chest the way he’d hold...well, Minseo. “I worked real hard on it.”

 

Carefully, Jimin curls around him, wrapping arms around Namjoon’s waist and leaning against his shoulder. He can see that his husband is in fact, pouting. “Baby, She will, But...other people won't be able to see.”

 

Namjoon snorts. His fingers find Jimin’s and entwine, giving a slight squeeze. “I’m not here for them. They don’t like us anyway.”

 

Jimin sighs, knowing that such an argument is a lost cause. Namjoon, unfortunately is right. They aren’t exactly well liked or received by most parents, because unfortunately they are both gay and Asian (which seems to grate on a select fews nerves) , but Jimin tries not to dwell on this fact in order to conserve his patience and do his job, which is teaching the students.

 

“Well, I like us,” He murmurs, “I particularly like you more than the other dads.”

 

“You better,” Namjoon says with a grin. He’s all smiles for Jimin, whereas for anyone else he’s stoic and regards them coolly.

 

With a sigh, seeing as there’s no winning with Namjoon when it comes to his overzealous antics when it comes to Minseo, Jimin leans on his tiptoes to press a kiss against his sullen husband’s lips before he must return to their child that waits for him behind the curtain with the other children. Namjoon responds to the kiss in earnest, wrapping a hand around Jimin’s waist, long fingers dipping beneath his shirt to rest over the dimples of his lower back.

 

Near them, Jimin hears someone clears their throat, and turns away, flushed down to his neck, ready to apologize, only to realize belatedly that the person isn’t one of those weird, scrutinizing white housewives who find it unpleasing for him and his husband to kiss, but instead is Yoongi, his neighbor and Seokjin’s partner.

 

Yoongi is in charge of all extracurricular programs in their town even though there’s been heat surrounding his choices regarding what to make a priority and what can be kept as it is. He also doesn’t give a fuck about what the heated sports parents think, and carries a no nonsense air about him.

 

He’s also very campy, despite his outward appearance contrasting this. Quite the favorite amongst the parents, too.

 

“Don’t make me blow my whistle and scare the fuck out of these little brats,” He drawls, Then once realizing, corrects in a hurry, “except Minseo, never Minseo. Just the other ones…y'know. Anyways, pack it in and don’t make a scene in front of anyone else. Don’t you have to prepare the kids? Move your ass.”

 

Jimin smothers a grin, lips pressed beneath Namjoon’s jaw.

 

“Hello Hyung, nice to see you too. Yes, we’re doing great today, thanks for asking.” Namjoon says, equally as flat. Jimin’s shoulders begin to shake in silent mirth.

 

“Save it for Thursday, lover boys. We just got our pool done and want to have dinner out in the backyard with Minseo,” Yoongi doesn’t take the bait, as he rarely does. He does shoo Namjoon off by curling his hand around Jimin’s shoulders and hauling him backstage. As they’re walking away, he does call out in English, much to the dismay of the parents that have to hear him, “Please for the love of god wear something nice. We’re a respectable crew!”

 

Namjoon stares after them, still holding his sign. The corner of it is bent now, and one of the sticky hearts has fallen, but regardless of all that, Jimin knows Minseo will love it.

 

Speaking of his child, Minseo skips down the steps when she spots Him and Yoongi, looking adorable in her little pink tutu and simple slippers. She breaks into a jump just in time for Jimin to open his arms and catch her.

 

She’s as energetic as he’d been for his first dance recital and the fact that they can share this as something they enjoy together warms his heart. Namjoon has his time with her when it’s time to color, draw or pop paint filled balloons inside their abandoned storage unit, but when it comes to dancing, Jimin’s the one to turn to.

 

“Daddy, it’s almost time! Are you excited? Are you gonna’ watch me? Where’s papa?”

 

Before parenthood Jimin would’ve never guessed children could actually speak this fast, let alone that he could understand them, but with Minseo he’s become a pro.

 

“Minnie darling, we breathe in between sentences,” Jimin grins, careful not to ruin her hair with his kisses. Minseo pouts, but nods. “Yes of course I’m excited, I’m going to see my best girl performing. And uh, well...your papa…” he trails off, thinking about his Husband carrying that massive sign that will obnoxiously block out the other parents view of the stage. If that’s not enough to spot from afar, Jimin doesn’t know what is. “You won’t be able to miss him, baby. He’s very very excited to see what we’ve been working on.”

 

“You breathe between sentences,” Yoongi chimes in, sending Minseo a smile that’s a flash of gums and small teeth. “Minnie mouse has the perfect voice. Be as loud as you want and give them hell out there. Me and your Uncle have a surprise in store for you later.”

 

Jimin scoffs, sending Yoongi a glare over Minseo’s shoulder. “We don’t say bad words, Minnie, and we also don’t try to show out our friends. What’s the Kim motto?”

 

Yoongi rolls his eyes good-naturedly, waves them off. “Here we go—“

 

Like she’s been taught, with pride, Minseo says, ”We do our best.”

 

“Good girl,” Jimin praises, gently smoothing the little hairs that never stay put in her bun. “Now, go on with the others. Daddy’s gonna be there in a second.”

 

Minseo smacks a loud kiss onto his cheek before wriggling out of his arms and running off backstage. He and Yoongi stare after her to ensure she’s made it safely and then part ways.

 

“Knock em dead, Jiminah,” He says, bringing up his fist for Jimin to bump against it. “We’ll celebrate after. All five of us.”

 

Jimin watches Yoongi leave, expels a nervous breath, and shakes all the tension off his shoulders. He’s always nervous when it comes to recitals despite always stressing to the children how they’re there to have fun, but he’s also excited. With years of training under his belt and all the enthusiasm in the world, Jimin knows he’s the right person for this job, no matter what the other parents might have to say about it.

 

He’s no stranger to criticism, considering that even back home he’d been on the receiving end of it, but by now he’s grown a thicker skin and doesn’t care about such things.

 

Namjoon has a small part in this, seeing as he’d first noticed Jimin’s harsh criticism on himself in response to how others criticized him during their brief stint together when Jimin used to model for nude portraits.

 

Back then any small thing would set him off and cause him to be harder on himself, that is until a Well-spoken but shy art student by the name of Namjoon had taught him a little something he’s since ingrained into his head.

 

Forget what people think, and do the things that make you feel good.

 

With that in mind, Jimin stands taller, squares his shoulders. The auditorium is steadily getting packed, which means one thing: it's showtime.





———




Minseo’s recital turns out to be a success, and all the parents are smitten with her performance as Odette. Namjoon specifically, who hasn’t stopped crying into the tissue Seokjin handed him, is the proudest, and refuses to relinquish his hold on Jimin and Minseo, smothering them with kisses and praises even though it's all over and they’re trying to enjoy a nice dinner between friends.

 

He also hasn’t let go of the fact that everyone had something to say about his sign. Everyone except Minseo, that caught a glimpse of it in the crowd and smiled brightly, stopping mid-jump to wave at her dad. “And you all criticized my sign, but Minnie loved it. Right, honey, You loved papa’s sign?”

 

Minseo’s mouth is too full to answer, but she nods eagerly, holding her thumb up.

 

“She’s your child, which means she’s biased,” Seokjin says without pause, reaching across the table to poke Minseo on the tip of her nose. Beside him Yoongi hums, watching his partner from across the table amusedly.

 

“What’s biased?” Minseo mumbles, lips jutting out in response to Jimin brushing a napkin under her chin to remove the excess sauce. He’s quick to explain to his daughter what biased means, but can tell by the end of it that she’s not following.

 

Simpler, he says, “It means you think your papa’s sign was good because he’s your papa and you want to make him happy.”

 

“Huh,” Minseo says, but doesn't press further, content to enjoy her meal, even when some of her rice slips past the chopsticks and land on her lap. She’s not fussy to go out with, which makes it a dream whenever Jimin and Namjoon have to go out and bring her along.

 

Come to think of it, They’ve been bringing Minseo with them everywhere since she’d come home; a routine of sorts. Spending as much time together as they could, so that she’s constantly assured that she’s wanted and included in their plans.

 

Conversation flows amicably around the table, amidst great food and even better drinks. Namjoon doesn’t drink, seeing as he’s driving, but he does indulge in letting Jimin have one or two in order to let loose and be rid of all the nerves he’s been sporting throughout preparations for this recital.

 

“You’re having fun, baby?”

 

Jimin stills, grip tightening around his glass, fingers slippery and cold. He feels Namjoon’s hand lingering over his thigh, a pressing warmth melting through the fabric of his jeans.

 

Without making it obvious that such a thing has flustered him, Jimin nods. Replies in a croak, “I’m having a really nice time tonight, yes.” Turning, he’s met with Namjoon’s gaze, and his stomach swoops. Not butterflies, but something potent enough to make him feel light. “Are you having fun?”

 

Namjoon’s laugh is soft, intimate even. Jimin can't stop looking at him. Namjoon is beautiful in such a subdued manner on some days when he’s relaxed at home, but when he dresses for the occasion all those good looks enhance tenfold. Dragging his gaze low, Jimin takes in the smudged kohl around his eyes, the little hoop that glimmers from his nose, the messily styled red hair. Namjoon’s dyed it once again and kept the sides short.

 

He’s still that quiet but charming artist that swept Jimin off his feet when they were younger, only now he’s grown into his skin much more, and exudes a mellow sort of confidence. The kind that isn’t imposing but is sexy to watch unfold.

 

Sitting at dinner, in his gauzy grey shirt with an open, relaxed collar where an array of tattoos are on display, and fitted, dark jeans, he’s casual but cleaned up. As much as Namjoon ever tries to be anyway.

 

Jimin feels stupidly in love with him, as though he could shout it off a rooftop, be reckless and loud about it. Propose all over again, but do it grand, and not inside Namjoon’s old studio, littered with canvases and stained easels.

 

“Yeah baby, I’m having fun. I always have fun with my family.” Namjoon says softly, cutting Jimin out of his reverie, smile knowing. He’s been caught making eyes at his husband.

 

Jimin swallows hard, on instinct reaching for Minseo’s hand beneath and table and tangling their fingers. Minseo doesn't question this and instead cuddles close, tucking her cheek against Jimin’s arm and giggling at whatever joke Seokjin is telling her.

 

“Y’kno, I kind of envy you sometimes,” Yoongi says during a moment of lapsed silence, where they're waiting for Minseo to finish her dessert. Namjoon and Seokjin have gone off to settle the bill, which for them means to argue about who is paying.

 

Jimin frowns at this. He’d never guess such a thing, especially from Yoongi, who’s so put together and living stable with Seokjin. “I don't get what you mean, hyung.”

 

“It’s just the family part, I think,” Yoongi says quietly, gazing at Minseo with a fond smile. “You both have someone to teach things to, someone who looks up to you. It's nice. I wish we had that, too.”

 

Jimin doesn’t know what to say to this without sounding like a lame apology out of a Hallmark card and settles for not saying anything. Just reaches across the table, finds Yoongi’s hand and squeezes it. He would’ve never guessed that he and Namjoon would’ve found a friend in their neighborhood, much fewer friends who share similar interests to theirs, but luck had a funny way of working out in their favor when they least expect it sometimes.

 

First with Minseo, and then with kickass neighbors and friends like Seokjin and Yoongi. Jimin doesn't come from a large family and never really hoped for one, but as the days pass by, his party of three has slowly begun to grow, and he likes that.










——————-





“You haven’t had a date in how long?” Seokjin’s tone mirrors the way Yoongi is looking at him. Disbelief, a little concern.

 

Jimin regrets mentioning it. The fact that the last time he and Namjoon had a date alone was nearly a year ago, maybe more. He’s certain they didn't even spend their wedding anniversary alone, which didn't seem like a big deal to him, but to his friends sounds incredulous.

 

“We are dedicated parents,” Jimin says, a touch defensive. Twiddling his thumbs, watching Namjoon and Minseo splashing each other by the edge of Yoongi and Seokjin’s pool, he adds. “Time isn’t something we have a lot of right now. Namjoon works and so do I. We have to be conscious of how we divide our time so that Minseo never feels neglected.”

 

“Jiminah, that’s not an excuse and you know it,” Seokjin laments, handing him a refill of his glass. Red wine and only one more glass before he’s reached his limit of two. “I work full time, Yoongi-yah does too. We sometimes don’t see each other until it’s time to go to bed, but even then we make time to be together.”

 

“You don’t have any kids,” Jimin says quietly. “You wouldn't understand.”

 

“We don’t, you’re right. Not for lack of not trying, we just can’t find a surrogate.” Yoongi sighs and Jimin shrinks in his seat, incredibly disappointed in himself for such a low blow. However, yoongi does not spare any time for pity parties, and adds, “the point we are trying to make here isn’t that you’re going to abandon your child and run off to explore everything you can’t do. We’re just saying that going out on a date with your husband every once in a while isn’t a crime, nor does it make you a bad parent.”

 

Jimin purses his lips, grimace melting into a small grin when he spots his family. Namjoon is wading through the water with Minseo hanging over his shoulders, wearing bright pink floaties on each arm.

 

“We don’t have a reliable babysitter—“

 

Seokjin scoffs, pauses from eating. The kimchi fried rice Jimin slaved over to prepare for this occasion cast aside. “First of all fuck you. What are Yoongi and I here for? How many times have we offered to watch her?”

 

Jimin shifts in his chair, side-eyeing Namjoon. He should call him over, as he stands a better chance against Seokjin when he’s going on a tirade better than Jimin does. Something about gorgeous, angered men makes him flustered.

 

His husband, however, is too busy doing laps with Minseo to notice his panic, which leaves Jimin to fend for himself.

 

“We don’t wanna impose on you. You’re both our hyungs and it’d be disrespectful.”

 

“You take my bowls home and never return them,” Seokjin cries out, flailing hands and outraged eyes. “That's more disrespectful, you goddamned brats!”

 

Properly chastised, seeing as that is true, Jimin sulks. Tips his glass and drains its contents before setting it on the table. “Alright, that’s fair, but wouldn’t it be awkward knowing that we’d be letting you babysit because we want time alone to...you know…”

 

“Fuck? Have hot sex? For you to ride your hot husband who makes eyes at you like there’s nobody else in the room?” Yoongi supplies helpfully. His cheeks are rosy with color and he’s grinning more than usual. “Why would that be weird for us? Our sex life is fucking great.”

 

Seokjin tucks Yoongi against him, arm slinging loosely over his shoulder, free hand tickling under his chin. “It is, baby, but this isn't about us. Focus.”

 

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, “Regardless, Hyung and I have already decided that we’re gonna babysit Minseo this Saturday and there’s nothing you can do to change our minds about it.”

 

“If it’s okay with you both we’d love to babysit,” Seokjin says, much gentler than Yoongi and a lot less indignant than before. “You’d drop her off Saturday afternoon and pick her up Sunday morning? We can even go out then if you want. The weather’s going to be really nice on Sunday. How’s that sound?”

 

“Minseo’s never slept over at anyone’s house before,” Jimin blurts out. Color rushes to his face, panic rising. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his friends, but…”She’s afraid of the dark. She wakes up some nights and won’t sleep right away unless she has someone to color with. I-“

 

Seokjin and Yoongi don’t shame him for his outrage and thankfully aren’t offended. Very calmly, to where Jimin feels as though he is the disquieted child needing comfort, he says, “We can always buy a highlight for her so she's not afraid of the dark? Yoongi is a night owl on the weekends anyway, and for your information, I happen to love coloring.”

 

Jimin deflates. He needs Namjoon for this. “She’s our baby,” he whispers, “We’ve never been apart that long. We’ve always been there to tuck her into bed.”

 

Perhaps it’s the alcohol, which Jimin doubts, as it takes more than two glasses of wine to do him in—but he’ll rely on and blame anyways—but tears spring to his eyes, which prompts Seokjin in ordering Yoongi to fetch some tissues.

 

“Jesus, I—we didn’t,” Stunned, Seokjin and Yoongi fall silent as Jimin cries quietly into the tissue he’s been given. Helplessly, Yoongi goes in search of Namjoon, who upon hearing that Jimin is in distress comes running to find out why, Minseo jostled on his shoulders. “We didn’t mean to make him cry. Please stop crying.”

 

Namjoon assesses the situation quizzically, then upon hearing the reason from Seokjin, nods. Minseo has since crawled into Jimin’s lap and tries in vain to hand him a napkin that she’s gotten wet with her hands in order for him to stop crying.

 

“‘mfine, baby, daddy just got a little too emotional,” He croaks, soothing Minseo with a tight-lipped smile. “You gonna’ go back to the pool, huh? I’ll race you there.”

 

“Gotta go potty first,” Minseo mutters quickly, in a rush off Jimin and inside. As she’s running off, she calls out, “Gonna’ beat you there when I come back!”

 

Jimin musters up a smile for her, that fades once she’s gone. His chest hurts.

 

Namjoon isn’t as easy to convince, and leans in, holding eye contact. Jimin wavers under his stare, having nowhere to run. “Jiminah,”

 

“Don’t you start with me,” Jimin mumbles, “I–did you agree to babysitting on Saturday?”

 

Namjoon shakes his head. Calm as ever, he says, “I didn’t actually, but I don’t think it’s a bad idea. You could use a break.”

 

“Namjoon,” Jimin hisses, scandalized he’d suggest, nevermind agree with such a thing. “Parents can’t take breaks from their children.”

 

“Jiminah,” Namjoon tries. Jimin shakes his head, arms crossed and looking elsewhere instead of at his infuriatingly gorgeous and wet husband. “Baby,” He says softly, lips gently skimming his cheek.

 

Jimin huffs, But stays silent. The silent treatment, he’s learned, also works wonders on adults.

 

There’s a smile in Namjoon’s voice when he asks, “You’re mad at me? And nothing I say will fix it?”

 

From behind Namjoon Jimin can hear Yoongi and Seokjin faux gag. His lip twitches and he tamps it down. He will not smile. Will not give Namjoon an inch.

 

“Baby,” Namjoon whispers, wet lips cool as they brush beneath Jimin’s ear. “I miss you.”

 

“I’m right here,” Jimin breathes. Swallows hard when he looks up and Namjoon is there, waiting.

 

“I miss you,” He says again, touching across Jimin’s chin so featherlight, it leaves him reeling. “We can try it out, right? Just one date won’t hurt.”

 

Jimin wets his lips, breathes in slow, then out. He risks a glance towards Yoongi, who’s eager in the way he nods and ogles Namjoon’s ass, whilst Seokjin fondly rolls his eyes and does the same.

 

“I…” he hesitates, struggling. Jimin never thought he’d be the overprotective father, and yet here he is, terrified over the thought of their baby spending half a night away from their home which is right next door. To Seokjin he says, “You’ll buy a nightlight?”

 

Namjoon’s lip curls at the side, dimple deepening inside his cheek.

 

Seokjin is earnest in the way he nods, Yoongi equally as serious. “We’ll buy a nightlight, and take care of Minseo like she’s our own child. I promise.”

 

Jimin swallows hard, peers at Namjoon, and then grunts when a few seconds later Minseo is back, hanging off his shoulders and smacking him in the process with wet hair.

 

“I...guess one date won’t be bad.” He murmurs, on the same breath as Yoongi, who tells Minseo how she’s set to have the best sleepover of her entire life.

 

Eyes widened with childlike wonder, Minseo hops off Jimin and runs towards Yoongi. She gasps, “Whoa, Really? Do we get to stay up late? Are we gonna’ color? Papa has this wall where I get to pop balloons full of pain—”

 

Minseo now occupied by her uncles telling her of all the plans they have, leaves Jimin and Namjoon on their own. Namjoon sitting across from Jimin, legs open and relaxed, hands reaching for Jimin’s to entwine.

 

Jimin feels like he’s full of hot air, as though any moment he’s bound to take flight, feet soaring off the ground.

 

“When’s the last time you took me on a date?” Jimin asks, staring down at their hands. Whilst their sizes are drastically different, Jimin’s hands are thicker, almost encompassing the width of Namjoon’s fingers.

 

Namjoon hums, knocking their knees together. There’s a tattoo on the inside of his knee, an abstract heart that somehow connects to a string of different ugly little flowers jimin doodled once in between classes to pass time.

 

He hated it, but Namjoon loved it, and recklessly had it put on his body. Jimin is mortified of the memory but pleased to always find parts of himself on Namjoon like he’s made a home inside him.

 

“Er, Mom was visiting and stayed with her for the weekend. We missed our reservation, then had tteobokki from that takeout place you like instead, and then you got sick.”

 

Jimin's nose wrinkles. “Nothing's quite as romantic as you watching me throw up.”

 

“Tending to you while you’re sick was both the worst and the best time of my life. Worst because your fever wouldn’t go down, and best, because you were so lazy, you let me have all the fun I wanted with you .”

 

“You wore a sexy nurse outfit to bed. It wasn’t my being lazy, it was my being smart,” Jimin deadpans, leaning in. Namjoon eases back in his chair, motioning for Jimin to come closer, a teasing smirk curving his lips. “You told me you had to check my temperature because I was burning up.”

 

“You liked it,” Namjoon murmurs, tracing the tip of his finger beneath Jimin’s jaw and lower, stopping at the hollow of his throat. “You topped me good even running a fever.”

 

“When I do something I do it right. That includes you,” Jimin rasps, swallowing tightly. A low thrum of heat simmers within him. Not enough to start anything, but enough to remind him why he loves being with his husband, as it’s never boring.

 

“Before we drop Minseo off we can spend some time together,” Namjoon tells him, very much aware that despite his teasing, this is a difficult time for Jimin. “She gets up early anyway, so we’ll have time. How about we paint a little?”

 

“Minseo has been saying our paint wall is dry,” Jimin says wryly, trailing off, “I could also use the stress relief. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

 

“We’ll be fine,” Namjoon assures. “Minseo is excited about this too. It’ll be a fun new experience for all of us. Trust me, yeah?”

 

Wordless, the raging panic in his chest subsided, Jimin sinks into his chair with a nod. Namjoon is there to chase away the storms that linger near him, but not to where he’s suffered from it. He’s Jimin’s grounding force, a calming balm to ease the ache and nurse him better.

 

Jimin watches him for a second, smile curving his lips. Then he looks over his shoulder, where across the yard a scandalized Yoongi has been tossed into the pool by a team of Seokjin and Minseo; black bucket hat aimlessly floating on the water.

 

Minseo’s giggling so hard that her shoulders are shaking. She spies them by the patio table and calls out for them, to which Jimin and Namjoon share a look.

 

Hands entwining as they stand, Namjoon hauls Jimin away from his doubts and brings him back to the surface, where things are looking better each day that comes.









Contrary to Namjoon’s guess, They’re the ones up bright and early whilst Minseo is peacefully sleeping inside her bedroom. Nightmare free ever since she’d gotten her trusty new nightlight.

 

It’s eight am, the sun is out and filtering between the slots of their curtains, and Jimin can’t quite breathe, and Namjoon is struggling to keep quiet.

 

This is because Jimin has snuck under the covers, crawled his way between Namjoon’s thighs and taken his cock into his mouth, sucking around the tip softly.

 

Namjoon jolts awake, then groans once he peeks beneath the blankets and finds unruly tufts of blond hair pressed flush to his stomach; Jimin’s lips wet and taut around the shaft.

 

Gasping, Namjoon arches into the tight seal of Jimin’s mouth, fingers tangling into his hair and tugging. “G’morning to you too, baby.”

 

Jimin hums, longing melting into sizzling pleasure that burns his skin; Namjoon’s blissful sighs spurring him on. Suckling the tip, Jimin dips his tongue into the slit, savoring hot precum and moaning. On the pull off he keeps a hand curled around the shaft, stroking Namjoon’s cock lazily, and smiling.

 

There’s drool stuck to the corner of his lips when he grins. Namjoon has been so good to him, such a wonderful, doting husband and father, that sometimes Jimin makes an extra effort to pamper him.

 

And what better way to pamper his man than by walking him up to a blowjob?

 

Closing his eyes, Jimin loses himself into it, gripping Namjoon’s thighs. Hauling him up, using that strength his husband is so hot for and urging his fat cock deeper, until the blunt tip touches the back of Jimin’s throat and he gags. Makes it loud and filthy, slick sounds permeating the air around them. The room too hot, the scent of sweat and faded hints of soap lingering.

 

A low moan tears past Namjoon’s lips, obscene despite it's soft edges. He thrusts forward, pretty and relaxed in bed, working his cock down Jimin’s throat, whimpering when Jimin’s tongue comes to play on the pull off, dragging down his balls and suckling them into his mouth.

 

Jimin doesn’t say a word, lets his mouth busy with better things. Blindly he reaches for the lube bottle Namjoon hands him, pumping a liberal amount onto his fingers and bringing them over his husband’s asshole, circling around it.

 

“Do it,” Namjoon breathes, kicking aside the covers so that he can fully take Jimin in, so that they can stare at each other throughout. Eyes hooded, Arching up wanton and urgent, offering himself up. “Make me come.”

 

Jimin brushes his lips over the flushed head of his cock, lingering there, letting his tongue drag under the tip. “You got it, baby.”

 

From there on it’s a race laced with urgency and impatience. Jimin bobs his head, licking across Namjoon’s cock, fingers sinking past the tight seam of his rim and curling inside. Namjoon is tight and hot, clenching around two thick fingers, whining quiet behind his palm.

 

His thighs tremble on either side of Jimin’s cheeks as he rubs the tip of his cock against his lips, parting them wide in order to take him all in. Liquid heat licks up Jimin’s spine, Namjoon’s pleasure more than enough to get him off.

 

The squelch of lube, coupled with Jimin’s fingers in his ass, circling around his prostate and Jimin’s lips stretched taut around his cock, has Namjoon becoming needy. Makes him thrust up, the sloppy pace causing his cock to slip past Jimin’s lips and rut against his cheek, the bridge of his nose.

 

Jimin hums, finds his husband so incredibly cute when he’s like this, much needier than he looks. Greedy to cum when the attention is all on him.

 

He thrusts in, then out. Holds Jimin by the hair gently, letting him drag his tongue up and down his cock the way one melts a lollipop, warming it with his lips.

 

Jimin takes him as much as he can, tears prickling the corner of his eyes, jaw aching. The tip of his nose brushes up against Namjoon’s pubic hair, and Namjoon in turn whines. Burying his flushed face in the crook of his arm, lost to sensation.

 

“Baby,” he whispers, urgency lacing his tone. Jimin draws it out, circling against the swollen gland inside him, applying pressure with his middle finger in time with kittenish licks given to the tip of Namjoon’s cock, keeping it there, tickling the underside. Namjoon squirms, begs a little higher, still breathless. The desperation in his voice, the way he shivers in response to each thrust or each suck, does it for Jimin.

 

He’s done playing nice, and wants to watch Namjoon come as quickly as possible.

 

It doesn't take long. A mixture of saliva, precum and tongue and teeth does it for Namjoon. He’s silent when he comes, but Jimin can tell moments before it happens, Namjoon’s body as familiar to him the way his own is. His husband groans low, stomach tensing, dick impossibly hot and flushed against Jimin’s slick hand as he continuously strokes him up and down; cum spilling thick between his fingers, some catching on the tip of his tongue and open mouth.

 

“Oh my god,” Namjoon gasps, sweat dripping down the side of his forehead. He watches Jimin lick over his fingertips, then drop down in order to notch his lips over the sensitive tip in order to suckle down every set drop, then follow whatever has dripped down the shaft with his tongue.

 

When Namjoon can take no more, and shies away from Jimin when he tickles the underside of his cock, Jimin smirks. A drop of come catches on the corner of his lips, and he’s quick to wipe it off with his thumb, reach up and feed it to Namjoon.

 

“Good?”

 

Namjoon huffs, limp in their bed, as though he could fall asleep all over again. Nonetheless, he nods. Watches amusedly as Jimin tucks his softening cock back into his briefs, then sits on his heels, wiping sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

 

Jimin catches him making eyes at his stomach, and lower, where his boxers are taut around his neglected, but hard cock, and smiles. He must look a mess, sleepy eyed, blond hair a mess and cum stuck to the roof of his mouth. And yet, Namjoon stares at him as though he’s never seen anyone look better.

 

Jimin grins, shooing him away when he attempts to get closer, undoubtedly intent on finishing him off. “No time for that hot-shot, we have about...ten minutes to be presentable.”

 

His husband looks adorably put out, like Jimin has stolen his candy. “We can always have a quickie in the shower?”

 

The look Jimin sends him is lethal, downright scolding. “Our child bathes in there. I am not going to fuck in our shared bathroom.”

 

“You’re right,”

 

“Of course I am—”

 

“We can always fuck on the floor. Hey, where are you going?”

 

Jimin rolls his eyes teasingly, giving his husband a show whilst he tugs his shirt over his head and begins slipping down his boxers. If he’d had more time maybe he’d tried to look sexier, but given that they now have about seven minutes or less until Minseo wakes up, they’ve got to get on the move.

 

It’s organized chaos in the mornings, especially when Namjoon joins him in the shower and they knock elbows whilst trying to wash their hair and bodies. Never mind how it’s always a rather funny sight to stare into each other’s reflections during morning shaves or brushing their teeth.

 

Jimin laughs on his way out of the bathroom, then sits on the corner of their bed to watch him fumbling to slip on his socks. It’s the unsexiest activity in the world, but Jimin still finds the sight of his inked up husband slipping into bright yellow socks the hottest thing ever, so it’s a losing battle.

 

His husband is just hot and he’s just … very gay and very in lust and love for him.

 

Minseo rouses out of bed just as Jimin has finished preparing breakfast and Namjoon is setting their joint mugs of tea on the table. She’s disoriented with sleep, her usually smooth hair in a disarray, and she’s missing a sock.

 

She’s the love of their lives.

 

“G’mornin daddy,” she mumbles, all but stumbling on her way to wrap her arms around Jimin’s leg. Jimin smacks an obnoxiously loud smooch on the top of her hair, then hoists her up, sitting Minseo on his hip in time for Namjoon to come in for his kisses too. “G’mornin papa. M’hungry.”

 

Namjoon wrinkles his nose, poking a dimple on Minseo’s chin. “Teeth get brushed first, then breakfast.”

 

Minseo, like she does most mornings, puts up a fuss over brushing her teeth, but relents under the combined force of her dads’ stares.

 

She toddles off into the bathroom, leaving Jimin and Namjoon chuckling behind her.

 

“Someone’s got your temper,” Namjoon comments idly, and in response, Jimin tosses a dish towel at his face.

 

“Be silent, daddy, or you’ll be sent on timeout next.” Jimin mutters. “Be nice to me, or I won’t put out on the first date.”

 

Namjoon’s lip twitches with a grin. “Who said I want you to put out? Also, who said this is a date?”

 

“Namjoon,” Jimin narrows his eyes, contradicting as ever, seeing as he steps into Namjoon’s arms and tips his chin up in time for a kiss.  “You’re a little shit.”

 

It’s chaste, and nothing more than a gentle press of lips, and yet that alone, coupled by the sudden sound of Minseo humming as she brushes her teeth is enough to ensure Jimin has a wonderful day.

 



“Papa…..Daddy…. can’t breathe,”

Jimin pretends he hasn’t heard anything, Namjoon follows. They’ve been clutching onto Minseo for long-standing minutes now, fussing over her and refusing to let go.

“Just a second,” Jimin murmurs, sharing a look with Namjoon over the top of Minseo’s head. Their time is up and he’s not ready to part ways just yet.

“Your dad’s need a minute more baby, we’re just gonna miss you.” He says. Minseo pulls back just enough to stare up at them with big, sad eyes.

“M’gonna miss you too,” she mumbles, looks a second away from crying once the situation dawns on her; she’ll be without her daddy and papa for a few hours.

Luckily, as though he’s got a crying child sensor built into his system, Seokjin kneels next to Minseo, holding out a water gun. “Hey princess, Don’t be sad, okay? You want to come with me and sneak in on your uncle, huh? We can wet him with these babies and chase him around the house.”

“Hyung—” Jimin starts. If there’s one thing he’s learned during the time he’s been friends with Yoongi, is that he hates children (apart from Minseo) and he hates being barged in on when he’s in his office, which means that this is a horrible idea just waiting to happen.

“I don’t think that’s wise—”Namjoon tries, only to go ignored.

“Woah, really? And I won’t get in trouble?” Minseo asks, already clutching said plastic gun to her chest. All those pouts and near tears gone as quickly as they’d come.

Seokjin smirks. “Of course you won’t get in trouble, princess. I’m giving you permission. I am the king of this castle and as of today you’re the princess.”

“Daddy, papa, I’m a princess!” Minseo gasps, breaking out into a dazzling grin full of small white teeth. “A real princess!”

“You sure are, and me and your uncle have planned out a whole night of fun stuff for us to do while your dads are off doing boring grownup stuff,” Seokjin says with dramatic flare, even going as far as to fake gag. “Blergh, they’re gonna miss out.”

“Well, you can’t fault him for doing his best,” Namjoon says up against Jimin’s ear, nudging his shoulder. “At least she won’t be sad, right? Look at her, she’s going to have fun.”

“Too much fun,” Jimin pouts. “I’m fun, aren’t I? I popped a whole row of paint balloons today,” he carries on, aware that nobody except Namjoon is listening. “And I didn’t even rush off to wash up. We rotted in paint covered filth for hours. We built a fort in our clothes and ruined our rug. That’s fun, right?”

“Of course you’re fun, baby,” Namjoon agrees instantly, watching Seokjin as he continues explaining his grand plan to a very eager Minseo. She nods along, even salutes like a small cadet accepting orders. “Hyung is just Hyung. Kids love him. It’s what makes him a good acting coach. He’s good at enthusiasm.”

Jimin nods along, but does so reluctantly. When it’s time for he and Namjoon to go, and Yoongi comes out of his office for a moment, holding an array of print-out coloring sheets, it is to kick them out.

“Don’t you two have a date to go on?” He drawls, casting a suspicious look towards Seokjin and Minseo, who have water guns behind their backs. “Hmph, well anyway, get out of here. We’ll call you if we need anything, which we won’t, but...”

Jimin hesitates by the front door as he slips on his shoes. “If she needs anything, even if its to talk to one of us, you call me, okay, Hyung?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Of course, but really, stop worrying.” To Namjoon, he says, “Please have fun, please remind your husband how it’s okay to go on dates together. Please get him out of my house.”

Namjoon smiles, leading a speechless Jimin out the front door. “Minnie mouse, we love you lots. Be good!”

“Bye baby, daddy loves you lots! Tell your uncles to call me if anything—“

They don’t make it past the entryway before Minseo is running towards them, blushy at the cheeks and giggling. The bow in her hair has already slipped off, and is hanging precariously to the side, not that she seems bothered about that.

“Bye daddy, bye papa, I love you lots and lots!” She says, smacking a kiss onto each of their cheeks, then running off. Over her shoulder, she says, “Be good!”

Heart thudding loud in his chest, Jimin bursts into a fit of giggles and lets Namjoon lead him out and towards their car.



———

Maybe adulthood has sucked something fundamentally important out of Jimin’s system, where he can’t focus on the positive things surrounding a date with his husband. Maybe Jimin has quite simply, but dreadfully, lost his ability to have fun once he committed to becoming a parent.

Because he misses going out as a family, and finds himself searching for Minseo throughout the entire time he’s with Namjoon. They try going to a movie, only to walk right back out when all the feature films are ones Minseo wants to see, like detective Pikachu, and the ugly dolls.

Dinner is better, all things considered, but Namjoon misses Minseo sitting in between them, coloring on the kids menu and taking bites from each of their plates, and Jimin keeps watching other parents interact with their children.

 

He caves, as expected, and throughout dinner reaches for his phone and dials Yoongi in order to check on Minseo, puts it on speaker phone so that his husband can hear too.

 

Yoongi answers on the third ring, sounding winded but giddy. “Kim Jimin, just what do you want, huh?”

 

Namjoon, who’s listening in, chuckles. Jimin scowls at them both.

 

“Is Minseo alright? Does she miss us? Has she eaten?”

 

“Firstly, fuck you—of course we’ve fed her, we’re not that dumb. Secondly, yes, I’m sure she misses you too. We’ve just been playing all kinds of games, you know? Keeping her busy, but lemme’ tell you that your kid could outrun an energizer bunny. She’s fast. Almost made me bust a lung when I chased her around the house. Did you know she connived with Hyung to douse me with a water gun? Those little shits.”

 

Jimin’s chest twinges, heart settling just a bit. He’d been worried for nothing, assuming the worst. “Oh,” he mumbles, “Well, that’s good. That’s great. I’m glad she’s having fun. What’s she doing now?”

 

“Changing into some pajamas. Hyung is making snacks, we’re going to watch Ponyo.”

 

“I love ponyo,” Jimin mumbles idly. Yoongi is busy replying to something Seokjin has asked and doesn’t catch it. “Well, we’re having fun too. Just...let Minseo know we called to check on her and that we love her lots!”

 

“Will do, dads,” Yoongi says, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

“Oh—and don’t forget to—he hung up.” Jimin says once he’s realized, expression blank. “I should call him again—”

 

Wordlessly, Namjoon collects Jimin’s phone and pockets it. “Jiminah,” he says gently, “she’s okay. She’s having a good time. Breathe, alright?”

 

“Fine.”

Disheartened, Jimin idly plays with his food, slipping some of it off his chopsticks only to pick it back up again. His stomach churns at the thought that maybe they’ve lost their spark as a couple outside of being parents.

“Namjoon,” Jimin murmurs, concern worming its way into his thoughts. “Namjoon baby, do you think...do you think we’ve lost our touch?”

Namjoon falls silent, tense in his seat across from Jimin. They’d been having a nice time before Jimin had to open his mouth. “Huh? What do you mean by that?”

Jimin fiddles with the rings on his fingers, twirls one around. Refuses to meet Namjoon’s gaze as he speaks. “Just, you know, have we gotten boring? Are we boring dads who have no chemistry together outside of parenting?”

Namjoon stares at Jimin as though he’s speaking an entirely different language. he blinks slow, sets his chopsticks down and steeple his fingers under his chin. Jimin hates when he does that, always finds himself wondering if he’s going to be scolded for something or not.

“Jiminah,” Namjoon starts off, arching a dark brow. Lips upturned into a frown. “Baby, we aren’t boring and we aren’t together simply to co-parent.”

Jimin nods, registering the words but so caught up in his own sadness over how little fun he’s been having during their date, one they left their daughter at their friends for the night for, hasn’t been what he expected, that he can’t see past anything else.

“We used to be fun,” Jimin says quietly, “Have wild sex in public places. Go to nightclubs in Itaewon with our friends, drink beer with our meals and stay up late.”

“We were young then,” Namjoon reminds him, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “We’re in our thirties now, baby. We’ve got a child at home who’s looking up to us as an example, we have bills to pay and responsibilities that weren’t there back then. Just because we aren’t showing up to finals in our pajamas and eating junk food a day to get by doesn't mean we’re boring. We live a fairly good life and have fun as we are. I’m proud of us.”

“I know, I know.” Jimin sighs. Feels like he’s talking himself in circles, frustrated and irritated by his troubles. An unhappy little noise spills from his mouth, and he reaches for his glass; the soju here doesn’t ever hit the same way it would back home. “I am too, proud of us, i mean, I’m just being silly.”

“You’re feeling guilty over things you don’t need to feel guilty for,” Namjoon supplies, and Jimin huffs. His husband always seems to know everything. Its equal parts endearing as it is annoying. “You think you can’t have it all, that it’s impossible to balance a family whilst balancing an intimate relationship with me without neglecting one side.”

Lips pursed, Jimin nods. Sends Namjoon a weakened glare.

Namjoon’s lips curve into a devastating grin, dimples and all. “You’re wrong about that. You can do both, you can be an amazing parent and you can be an amazing husband. You’ve been doing so always, just so you know. Minseo adores you, and so do I. Nobody is feeling neglected anywhere, baby. You’re being hard on yourself for no reason.”

“Yeah,” Jimin breathes, chest light as though he’s just cleared his head above water after attempting to drown himself. “I...that’s exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you, baby.”

 

Namjoon smiles. Reaches across the table in search of Jimin’s hand, finds it and entwines their fingers. Gives them a squeeze. “You know what I think we could do that’s fun and we haven’t done in a long time?”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Well, we have the house to ourselves until tomorrow, and I’ve been wanting to sketch something new for a while now.” He says, hesitant and shy. Color blooms on Namjoon’s cheeks, and Jimin’s heart flutters. “I could set everything up and we could go back to where it all started. I’ll sketch and you pose.”

 

Sucking in a sharp breath, Jimin stills. Feels entirely too hot in his shirt, regretting that he wore black in this sweltering heat. “You wanna’ do that for our date. Really?”

 

“I mean, yeah. You’ve always been my muse anyway,” Namjoon murmurs, smoothing his fingers over the riches of Jimin’s knuckles, inexplicably tender. “Marriage and a baby hasn’t changed that.”

 

“Oh,” Jimin bites his lower lip, voice soft. “That’s sexy. I’m actually kind of flustered. You haven’t called me that in a long time. Your muse .”

 

“That’s right,” Namjoon agrees, coming to a stand. He looks determined, chest out, shoulders squared. Jimin watches him pull out his wallet, free hand smoothing down his shirt. “So if you’re done eating and sulking, can we go home?”



——




There’s something familiar about the entire scenario, Jimin thinks as he steps inside the room where any and all painting gets done. As though he’s no longer a married man, as well as a father, but twenty one, sleep deprived and green for money to be made thanks to nude modeling.

 

He feels just as flustered as he ventures inside and finds Namjoon. His husband is standing in the center of the room, an easel poised before him and a perfectly sharpened pencil between his fingers. Changed from his date attire into casual clothing. A white t-shirt and soft jeans. He’s barefoot, wiggling his toes against the hardwood, the only sign of nervousness Jimin is able to find on him, whereas he feels as though he might faint.

 

Standing in nothing but a simple cotton robe with his face scrubbed clear of makeup, Jimin sucks in a sharp breath, anticipation thrumming steadily under his skin.

 

Contrary to when they are in here with Minseo, there’s no music playing. Namjoon prefers silence when he’s working, as it helps with his concentration. Usually Jimin doesn’t care much for the music they play in order to fill the space when they’re all together, but under Namjoon’s loaded and heavy gaze as he steps a few feet in front of the easel to sit on the padded leather stool, he misses it.

 

Anything to focus on rather than that.

 

Namjoon’s smile is gentle, assuring. “Jiminah,” he says softly, “Your robe, baby. Take it off.”

 

Jimin nods, held by a trace under his husbands gaze and commanding presence. He could watch him work for hours and never tire.

 

“Right,” Jimin rasps, fingers lingering at the tie of his robe. Slowly he undoes it, letting the fabric slip down his shoulders and gather around the crook of his arms. “I’m a little rusty at this.”

 

Namjoon quirks an eyebrow. “It’s like riding a bike, baby. You never really forget. You’re doing great,” he says. “We’ll start some simple posing to get your head in the game again, don’t worry.”

 

Tongue coming out to wet his lips, Jimin nods once more. Leaves it all in Namjoon’s hands, knowing he’s the artist and knows what he’s doing.

 

The robe slips past his arms once Jimin lowers them, and he sits there, bathed in bright lights, bare as can be, whilst Namjoon peers at him over the top of the easel.

 

“Let’s begin.”

 

It is as Namjoon says. Once they get started things are rather easy, each pose short, but familiar. Working on muscle memory, Jimin eases into it, molding his body whichever way Namjoon asks him to, abdicating to the feeling sizzling under his veins, that raw urge to please reigning to him the way one welcome’s an old friend.

 

It's silent save for the quick intakes of breath, as well as the incessant scratch of the pencil against paper. Jimin’s eyes fall shut, this pose taking a strain on his arms, which he holds crossed behind his back, chest outwards, aligned with his parted thighs and cocked knees.

 

Namjoon murmurs some kind of complement in between posing, and Jimin lets them wash over him; a summer tide hitting his skin after a long day.

 

“You’ve got abs again,” Namjoon comments during a brief intermission, where Jimin drinks greedily from a chilled bottle of water, condensation slick between his fingers. Jimin snorts, but doesn’t press further. He’s not completely oblivious to his own looks. Knows that exercise and strenuous training keep him lean and looking good. Knows Namjoon likes that he carries a little muscle, that his arms are thicker.

 

“You’re now noticing?” Jimin jokes, purposely flexing, his stomach going taut. “Maybe I have lost my touch.”

 

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you fishing?” Jimin flashed him a grin that’s all teeth and he sighs, relenting. “I mean, you’ve always been fit with dancing, but when you sit like that…”

 

Coasting on a relaxed sort of high, where Jimin feels weightless and hazy, he hums. Peers over the bottle at his husband, and hitches one of his legs higher on the stool, giving him something more to admire. “When I sit like what, honey? Like this?”

 

Namjoon swallows hard, adam's apple working. His grip around the pencil tightens. Jimin recalls the very first moment he’d done so. It’d been seconds before he’d knocked over his chair in a haste to get to him and put an end to weeks worth of unresolved sexual tension; he’d fucked Jimin inside an off-limits studio, then let Jimin fuck him once they’d recovered back in his apartment. What a long night that’d been. Jimin nearly missed his shift the next day.

 

Jimin smirks, swinging his foot back and forth, resting his chin over his knee. “Something on your mind?”

 

“It won’t work,” Namjoon mutters, despite the falter in his gaze as it sweeps low, caressing down Jimin’s stomach and lingering between his thighs. “I’m a professional at this by now.”

 

“Sounds to me like a dare. Like you’re purposely baiting me to seduce you,” Jimin croons, giving Namjoon a once over. Shrugging, head tipping back and towards the ceiling as he eases into the next pose, Jimin says, “I’ve done it once, I can easily do it again.”

 

Namjoon returns to the easel, holding a charcoal pencil in his hand this time around, fingers already carrying black smudges. “Jimin,” He says, finding his gaze momentarily, “Be good.”

 

Saying such a thing prompts Jimin to do the opposite. Makes him bold, a little wanton and brazen. A subtle shift and both thighs are parted once more, hands curving behind his neck. Every inch of his body pulled taut, cock resting against his inner thigh, half hard.

 

Jimin makes a low sound in his throat, keeps his gaze hooded. Heavy on Namjoon as he works, focus absolute. Namjoon falls for art the way men fall for their muses; inexplicably fast. A little too reckless to be condoned.

 

He perceives Jimin differently in each sketch, papers flitting onto the ground by his feet. An array of body lines, the shadow of his torso, a focus on his feet. His parted lips.

 

Jimin feels as though he’s untouchable under Namjoon’s views of him. Through his husbands eyes, guided through rough flicks of his wrist and steady precision, he’s exquisite. A better version of himself.

 

On the next pose, Jimin takes note of the time. Finds it's dark outside, and that they’ve been at this for two hours, and yet Namjoon is incessant. Once he’s got an itch, there’s nothing that’ll satisfy it.

 

Nothing except Jimin that is.

 

And so Jimin, emboldened by curiosity, as well as his own itch he’s longing to scratch, stands from the chair. Cranes his neck, shakes off the strain in his muscles. Stretches one leg high, the point of his foot easily going over his head, years of dance aiding in flexibility.

 

Throughout Namjoon watches him, charcoal paused before the easel. A smudge of it under his jaw where he’d brushed his hands across.

 

Jimin is slow on his way, slinking closer. Wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s waist, he presses up against his body, basks in all that warmth.

 

Namjoon tenses for a moment, surprise breaking the bubble he loses himself in during moments like these. He goes soft against the kisses laced on his neck, a deep groan working it's way past his lips.

 

He drops the charcoal.

 

“You’ve been good. Worked so hard,” Jimin murmurs, licking the faint sweat that’s clinging to Namjoon’s skin. “I should reward you.”

 

Namjoon sighs, leaning into Jimin. He’s so very sensitive to touch, shuddering as Jimin’s hands trail beneath his shirt and work their way up. Blunt nails scraping up his torso, stopping to palm at his chest, his nipples.

 

“Yeah? Maybe I’d like that.” Namjoon breathes, fingers coming up to keep his shirt hiked up and out of Jimin’s way.

 

The mood in the room shifts. Jimin’s feeling the heat of it settle on his skin, the weight of implication. The steady rush that comes before a good fuck.

 

Slowly, his hands slide low, palms flat until they stop the the seam of Namjoon’s pants. The button gives way under his fingertips, the zipper just as easy; Namjoon’s cock hot against his fingertips through cotton boxers.

 

Jimin palms the tip, drags his hand up, then tugs at the waistband, a harsh snap rousing a shocked gasp last Namjoon’s lips. Fixated on the sight, Jimin jerks the boxers down, freeing his cock.

 

It falls heavy on his hand, too thick for Jimin to wrap around it fully, flushed at the tip. He’s not quite hard yet, and neither is Jimin, and yet he’s never felt this pressing urge to touch just to touch, feel. Re-familiarize with his husbands body, and have him do the same.

 

He starts gentle, spitting on his palm and bringing it low, watching the way Namjoon’s cock shifts under his gaze. He gets hard so easily, takes nothing more than a few strokes. A slick glide and a flick of the wrist as the sensitive cockhead.

 

Namjoon’s breath punches out of him, barely there at all. “Fuck,” He whispers, “Jimin, fuck.”

 

Jimin hums, scrapes his teeth down namjoons jaw, biting gently. He strokes Namjoon’s cock until it’s hard and thick, wet at the slit with precum and twitching.

 

“What do you want, huh?”

 

That’s the thing about Namjoon, and the thing that excites Jimin when they go to bed. He never knows what to expect, Namjoon surprising about what’ll get him off each time. He gives as good as he gets, and vice versa. Never has a problem with who fucks who, because they all come in the end.

 

“Just...just wanna be with you,” He groans, mingling pretty sounds from his lips to the slick sound of his palm jerking his cock. “Wanna be inside you.”

 

A steady grip on Namjoon’s hip, Jimin turns him. Tips his chin up to stare at his husband, finds hunger rooted in his gaze when his hands come out to play. No longer shy, cupping Jimin’s ass how he likes it.

 

“Kiss me,” Jimin groans, licking his lips. His cock grades against Namjoon’s, two sides of trapped heat colliding in a merge of filthy, sweat slick friction; Jimin gasps.

 

Namjoon is easy, and he just gives and gives. Leans in, silencing Jimin’s impatience with his lips, licks into his mouth and swallows up every sound. Makes Jimin dizzy, takes him up so high, his head feels light.

 

He’s always had a thing for losing his breath, and Namjoon’s always had a thing for doing it to him.

 

Jimin sags into the kiss, a hand steady under Namjoon’s jaw, thumbing his chin, whilst the other palms at his cock, smearing precum down the shaft and lower, just beneath his balls.

 

“Sit,” Namjoon rasps when he pulls back, Breathing hard. Lips slick with saliva; a tell tale that Jimin has been there kissing him silly. “The stool. Sit on it, now.”

 

Jimin obliges, moving on instinct and settling on the leather stool, thighs parted. He’s unsure of what Namjoon can achieve from this position and limited space, but trusts him.

 

The answer comes quickly; Namjoon on his knees between his parted thighs, hitching Jimin’s leg over his shoulder, breath warm across his perineum.

 

“Oh you’re really going for this—” Jimin’s words die on his lips, Namjoon’s tongue on his skin a sudden warm heat that nearly topples him over. “Baby,” Jimin gasps, hand cupping the back of his head, holding him there.

 

Namjoon moans against his skin, fingers tight as they grip Jimin’s ass and pull it apart, exposing him that much further. He licks a broad stripe over his rim, saliva making things slick and lewd in sound, a constant wet on his skin.

 

Jimin’s barely able to hold on, curling his toes across Namjoon’s shoulder. Heat searing his skin, the room caked in tension, a palpable thing that eats away at him.

 

Namjoon’s soft nose brushes against his perineum, Jimin’s cock aching in it's neglect. He curls a hand around the shaft, holding it steady, gaze hooded as it falls on Namjoon, who appears as though he’s never had anything better than Jimin.

 

Namjoon sucks around the rim, then pulls back, a string of saliva pooling from his lips to Jimin’s skin. “ Fuck , I missed you. Missed this.”

 

“I-I can tell,” Jimin whispers hoarsely, then helps when Namjoon spits over his asshole before thrusting his tongue inside. “ Fuck !”

 

Namjoon moans into him, the sound reverberating against Jimin’s entire body; straight to his aching cock. He groans low, tipping his head back, stomach going taut. Rolling his hips forward, Namjoon’s tongue catching on the rim.

 

Sweat beads along Jimin’s hair, a thick drop falling down his forehead as he pants. Namjoon works him into a muddled sort of frenzy, makes him whine. Makes him beg.

 

Jimin can barely keep his eyes open, coasting on adrenaline and mind numbing pleasure. His stomach tenses when Namjoon moves his wet lips up, brushing them across his balls, then goes up, notching his lips over the flushed head of his cock.

 

“Baby,” Jimin moans, throat working on a hard swallow. Fingers clenched, they find purchase between the red strands of his hair and tug. Urging him to take his cock to the base, down to his thick pubic hair.

 

Namjoon goes easy, wet sounds echoing as he swirls his tongue around the shaft, then pulls out. His hands replaces the warmth of his mouth, and he uses both to stroke Jimin’s cock, palm flat to the leaking tip whilst his fist slides down.

 

Jimin trembles, feels like he’s dreaming. Maybe hallucinating this whole scenario; some sick dream he doesn’t ever want to wake up from. Namjoon on his knees like a pagan paying homage to a saint.

 

His cock aches where it’s touched, and Jimin whines. Feels the threat of an orgasm looming in close, enough to where he can taste it.

 

He jerks out of Namjoon’s hold, panting and coming to a stand on unsteady legs. “Bedroom, now.” He gasps, curving a hand around Namjoon’s wrist to haul him up.

 

They pull each other close, bodies caked in sweat. Namjoon’s clothes are askew, but still on. Jimin makes quick work of this, eager to get his hands on bare skin.

 

A push and pull of fumbling steps has them moving towards the bedroom, a trail of clothes leading the way; Namjoon’s pants haphazardly hanging off the doorknob as they push through the threshold.

 

Namjoon tips Jimin towards him, their lips meeting in a rush of intermingled tongues and teeth. His hands were everywhere and nowhere at once, The way he touches Jimin leaving him breathless and impatient.

 

Jimin snags his lower lip with his teeth and sucks, savoring his husbands groan. It’s not quite enough to get him to lose it, and so Jimin pulls away, stepping backwards towards their bed, coaxing Namjoon to follow.

 

When he does it’s with the finesse of a man who’s been here before, in this bed pulling him apart by the seams. Namjoon cages Jimin by the foot of their bed, urging him onto his back, thighs parting effortlessly. The way he likes it. A little compliant, but rough around the edges.

 

Jimin peers up at him, fingers harsh as they scrape down Namjoon’s chest, across intricate artwork etched onto his skin. Exploring every inch of skin he can reach. Namjoon’s taut stomach, his back, his ass.

 

Jimin grabs a handful of it, uses his strength and hoists his husband further up. Their cocks brush against each other, and Namjoon sucks in a sharp breath, uses both hands in order to press them together and jerk them off.

 

“Oh fuck, I want you so bad,” Jimin whispers, unable to tear his eyes off Namjoon’s hand. It’s large enough without being imposing, fully able to wrap around their cocks, his free hand dipping between Jimin’s legs to grab his ass.

 

Head tipped back, he arches, body melting into pure want under his husbands touch. Jimin sits up, lays a hand flat on their bed, curling the other around Namjoon’s shoulder, their foreheads pressed together.

 

“You’re so beautiful. So fucking hot,” Namjoon groans, voice a touch lower. “Needy.”

 

“I—I deserve it,” Jimin breathes, only to yelp when Namjoon’s hands are gone, but return in a moment in order to wrench him on his stomach. Indignant and surprised that his husband would resort to cheating in order to get his way, Jimin scowls at him. “You...you caught me off guard.”

 

Namjoon’s weight above him is almost smothering, and Jimin gasps. His cock rests heavily against his ass, the wet tip dripping precum when he ruts against the seam.

 

A hand curves around the nape of his neck, Namjoon gentle but firm in guiding him. They’ve been here before, and the thought of where this will lead makes Jimin moan high.

 

“You remember right?” Namjoon asks gently, a contrast to the rough way he kneads Jimin’s asscheek, pulling it apart to thumb at his clenching hole.

 

“Tap your wrist twice for too much, I remember.” Jimin mumbles, slows his breathing. Takes each inhale and holds it in. Five seconds, then ten. His body goes soft, head feeling blissfully light, as though it’s packed with cotton.

 

Namjoon’s weight leaves for a moment as he rummages through the highest drawer on their dresser in search for lube and a condom, and Jimin counts the seconds. Ruts his cock lazily against the bed, arches his hips, pushes out his ass.

 

“Jesus, Jimin,” Namjoon says behind him, voice laden with wonder. What a picture he must make, spread open and brazen for his husband to get lost in. Long fingers skirt down his spine, stop at the dimples above his lower back. Circling them, Namjoon is reverent as he whispers, “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

 

“Show me then,” Jimin murmurs, tossing Namjoon a look over his shoulder, a touch coy. “Make me feel it.”

 

It’s clear Namjoon is finished talking the way he’s quick to uncap the bottle to pour lube on his fingers a clear sign. They’re long and deft, and coupled with how slick they are and how eager Jimin is to have them inside, he opens up easily. Namjoon sinks them in, a hand flat on Jimin’s back keeping him steady when he attempts to grind down.

 

“Oh baby, you did miss me.” Jimin moans, all but melting into the bed. Asking for more. Namjoon’s finger soon becomes two, both in tandem as they scissor him open. Make Jimin roll onto them, hips thumping against the bed.

 

“You take it so good,” Namjoon groans, the hand on Jimin’s back moving low, hitching his thighs wider apart so that on the next thrust in, Jimin cries out; his prostate swollen and sensitive once it’s found.

 

There , right there ,” Jimin’s trembling like a leaf, moaning loud into the pillows, barely breathing. His chest feels full, like he’s seconds from going under water. “I love you in me. You‘re the best fuck I’ve ever had.”

 

Namjoon crooks his fingers in deep, gives them a little flicker. Jimin’s thighs spasm. There’s a satisfied smirk in his voice when he says, “I sure am.”

 

“Fuck me.” Jimin’s not too proud to beg. His cock aches where it’s pinned to the bed, and Namjoon’s fingers inside him feel so good, make him so full that he might just pass out if he doesn’t get fucked right away. “God, please just fuck me.”

 

A look over his shoulder through bleary eyes has Jimin finding Namjoon as he pulls out his fingers and reaches for the condom. His thick cock hangs between his legs, twitching in his grip. A squeeze of more lube, and the condom is rolled on, enough to make Namjoon groan.

 

His hands are back where Jimin wants them: his ass. Gripping tightly, hoists Jimin back until his cock is flush to his asshole, the blunt cockhead catching against it.

 

“You take too long,” Jimin purrs, sinking down on Namjoon’s cock without pause. “And I want it now .”

 

The sudden stretch around his hole makes Jimin suck in a sharp breath, fingers curling into the sheets tightly. Namjoon is no better, grappling his ass, holding on so tight he’ll bruise; the clench and heat too much.

 

“Oh baby,” Namjoon Sighs, pulling out his thick cock until just the tip rests inside, then slamming in hard. Jostling jimin higher up their bed, his face smothered against the pillows. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. Ass just sucking me in.”

 

“God—shut up,” Jimin slurs, gasping as Namjoon opens him up deeper with every thrust of his fat cock. He whines, muffled cries barely heard as he grinds down, taking every inch of that cock until it bottoms out. Until namjoon’s hips are flush to his ass.

 

The room becomes sweltered in the smell of sweat, cologne and sex. Slick noises mingling with hard slap of skin meeting skin. Namjoon’s thighs against Jimin’s ass as he fucks in hard, pinning Jimin down in the process, jiggling his ass from the impact.

 

His head swims, thoughts a muddled mess. Jimin’s lips part on soundless gasps, breathing unsteady. Head tipped back, he cranes his neck, staring up at Namjoon as he leans in, lips wet against the shell of his ear.

 

Little spots dance against Jimin’s eyes when Namjoon wraps a hand around his cheeks, covering his mouth. Jimin inhales sharply, counts to ten as slow as can be.

 

On eight, Namjoon crowds his body, every inch pressed against Jimin so that he can’t tell where he begins and Namjoon ends, his cock achingly filling him to where it hurts the way he likes.

 

On five, Jimin’s eyes flutter shut. The pressure too blindingly hot, the control Namjoon has on his person absolutely and skilled.

 

On one, The hand moves away, and Jimin gasps roughly, drooling down his husbands palm and across his chin.

 

More ,” He slurs, arching into the drag of Namjoon’s cock as it fucks him, keeps him on edge.

 

Namjoon doesn’t relent on this. Doesn’t go easy on Jimin anywhere, fucking him so hard and fast he cannot keep himself in position any longer. Thighs spread to where they’re flush to the bed, his body pliant and welcoming.

 

“All for me,” He whispers against Jimin’s ear, lips brushing against his sweaty forehead. “All mine. My pretty husband, mine.”

 

Yours ,” Jimin groans hoarsely, panting harsh. He aches to black out, get fucked into unconsciousness, where nothing but the glide of Namjoon's cock inside him will keep him grounded.

 

Jimin is trembling, overwhelmed and on the precipice of coming, practically tasting it. A particularly deep thrust has Namjoon’s cock constantly touching his prostate and Jimin can’t hold it—cannot possibly stop it once it starts.

 

He cries out Namjoon’s name, vision cutting out. Breath hitching, it builds up in Jimin’s body, then expands until it's ballooning out of him and he starts coming, warm strings of cum painting his stomach, staining their sheets.

 

Namjoon grinds to a slow, all but sitting on Jimin now. His cock throbbing inside, the rim of Jimin’s asshole clenching down impossibly tight around the shaft.

 

“Fuck—Jimin, Jimin .” Stilling, hands on Jimin’s hips sliding up and curving over his shoulders, Namjoon holds his quivering body tight. Crowds over Jimin as he starts coming into the condom, bodily shuddering.

 

Jimin’s not sure of how much time passes, simply coming to when there’s a gentle hand carding through his hair.

 

“Jiminah,” Namjoon says, inexplicably tender now. Jimin nuzzles into his open palm, dead weight in bed. “Are you good?”

 

A small nod. Jimin could fall asleep any second now.

 

Namjoon nudges him. “What’s my name, huh? Who am I?”

 

With a roll of his eyes, Jimin groans. Wriggling away from Namjoon, he does his best to roll on his back, then wrinkles his nose. Cum is trickling down his inner thighs.

 

“You’re Namjoon, my husband.” He croaks. “Water?”

 

Wordless, Namjoon hands him a chilled bottle before climbing into bed, curving against him, a leg hitched over his hip. Kisses Jimin’s forehead whilst he drinks greedily, always so concerned whenever they indulge in a little bit of rougher play.

 

“Just making sure you weren’t gone,” Namjoon tells him, speaking softly. His own voice a touch lower, raspy from overuse. “You get really into it.”

 

Despite the soreness lingering deep inside him, a sure sign he’s been fucked good and hard, Jimin wants to snuggle. Press up against all that solid heat and get lost in it.

 

And he does just that. Wraps around his big soft man, one hand wrapped around a water bottle, the other aimlessly kneading his chest whilst Namjoon kisses him almost lazily, curling his tongue to lick into his mouth.

 

“Mmh, I love it when you do that,” Jimin purrs, like a cat content that it's being pet. “Feels good.”

 

“I like making you feel good,” Namjoon tells him just as he nips the ball of his shoulder, teasing with a gentle kiss onto the skin. “Makes me feel even better. Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“I feel on top of the world actuallt,” Jimin says, his laugh pleasantly husky. “Stop worrying about me. I’m fine. You’re just what the doctor ordered for a stressful day.”

 

“Smooth talker. Gonna’ get me hard again, keep going like that.”

 

“I don’t really see a problem with that—Hey ,”Jimin begins to feel a faint stir in his sensitive dick when Namjoon pulls away and steps out of bed, ignoring his complaints.

 

“Gotta’ get all this cleaned up,” he says, already searching for something to cover up with. Whilst rifling through their drawers, over his shoulder he tells Jimin, “Gotta clean you up, too.”

 

Jimin can't possibly get fucked like that again, not when every part of him feels tender and deliciously sore, but he’d never turn down a chance to go again. Maybe he could ride Namjoon’s face, or Namjoon could ride him—

 

Jiminah ,” Namjoon chides once he notices Jimin’s cock give a half hearted twitch. Jimin unleashes his best weapon. A real hard hitter for Namjoon, who is too easy to fall for it: the sad eyes. “Jimin, baby–”

 

Jimin does so harder. Goes for the gold, adding a small, but very convincing jut of his lower lip.

 

Sighing, fond but tired, Jimin can see when his husband throws in the towel. Relents into him, soft inside and out.

 

He gives up on searching for something to wear, returns to bed where Jimin curls a hand around his cock, stroking it lazily. No rush, especially when he’s so sensitive.

 

“It’s going to be a long night.”

 

Jimin’s exhausted, down to his bones tired, but never for this. Never for Namjoon.















“The way I can tell you got dick last night,” Yoongi whispers as soon as he opens the door in order for them to come inside, real conspicuous about it. Making eyes at Jimin, his grin knowing.

 

Behind him, holding out a styrofoam tray with coffee and sweets for Seokjin, Yoongi and Minseo, Namjoon snorts. Uses his free hand to pat Jimin on the ass and make his way inside. Throwing him out to the wolves, or in this case, one wolf.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimin lies, red faced. He’s always been a terrible liar and awful at card games. “We just had dinner.”

 

“Yeah, and you served each other up for dessert. I know a good time when I see it.” Yoongi drawls, teasingly appraising Jimin.

 

He’s completely composed on the outside, wearing a pair of fitted shorts, a snug T-shirt tucked into them, and his running shoes. A simple outfit for a day out with his family.

 

Underneath, however, where nobody will notice, Jimin sports lingering marks. Namjoon’s teeth littered against his inner thighs. His husband is no better, wearing his hickeys beneath his shirt, too. Low around his thighs, some on his ass. Product of a wild night.

 

Yoongi looks as though he hasn’t slept either, but Jimin recognizes that exhaustion personally, and grins. His neighbor has never looked happier, despite assumedly not getting much sleep thanks to Minseo waking up early.

 

“I don’t kiss and tell, so… can I go inside and see my baby now?”

 

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but leads the way. Scowls at Jimin when he asks if Minseo behaved. “Excuse you, she was wonderful actually. I don’t know why you were so worried, Minseo couldn’t be a better kid if she tried, and that says a lot coming from me. I hate kids that age.”

 

Jimin falls behind him, properly chastised, but grinning. It dawns on him that perhaps his neighbors needed this, too. Something to ground their decision in venturing into parenthood, nothing quite as believable as having first hand experience caring for a child yourself.

 

“Well, I’m glad you all had fun,” Jimin says softly, reaching for Yoongi’s hand. “Thank you.”

 

Yoongi’s face flushes with color, and he scowls. About as affectionate as a pet cactus, but no nonsense when it comes to holding hands. “We’d love to babysit more. Don’t be a stranger about it. Also don’t be stupid, either. We’re practically family now, and me and Hyung look out for our family.”

 

Oh. “Family,” Jimin breathes, a funny sensation buzzing in his chest. He’s never quite pictures anyone outside of his small circle as family, and yet now that he’s caught a glimpse of what it’s like, he realizes he’s longed for this.

 

People to turn to, a hand to hold.

 

Out of habit it’s on the tip of Jimin’s tongue to protest, argue how it’s impolite to impose on their hyungs, but he resists. Falls silent when they step into the living room, where greeting him is Minseo.

 

Sitting on Seokjin’s shoulders, who looks like he hasn’t slept either, his shirt is on backwards and his hair is all over the place. He’s never looked as tired, but unbothered. Minseo’s already got her mouth covered in white powder, a doughnut she’s eating directly out of Namjoon’s outstretched hand.

 

Namjoon finds Jimin staring and leans in, says something to Minseo which prompts her to turn in search of him.

 

When she does, she’s quick to yell, “ Daddy, you’re home!”