#Same with Namjoon being considered dark within his own home country-

[thatspookyagent]

LMAO if you were raised in and or were born in a country that has colorism so deeply ingrained into it, that folks that are actually light and or have the slightest tan, would be considered/called "dark" and get called black (or anything adjacent to that in y'all's native language(s)), you should NOT be the ones to deny colorism (or anti-Blackness for that matter) within your home country (or globally), excuse it, or say that it simply doesn't exist or "isn't that bad".

Cause truth is even if folks who aren't considered or seen as dark wherever they go in the world, are getting mad shit for having tanned or LIGHT brown skin, you know that colorism run DEEP where you from for it to be effecting people who are honestly aren't even getting the extreme brunt of it in the first place (at least from a global perspective) or even have privilege over those considerably darker than themselves. So close ya mouths and stop being ahistorical about your own countries history & issues, just so you can shut down conversations about colorism. You look goofy. -_-

#colorism #racism #antiblackness #gaslighting #poc #light skin privilege #light skinned privilege #Yeah this about Latin America and East Asia to be specific #Not that they're the only countries that this post can apply to #That just instantly come to my mind #Since Tenoch Huerta is called and considered dark within his community when he not even near Lupita shade- #Same with Namjoon being considered dark within his own home country- #Like if those two are dark or moreno then what's the majority of the Black Panther cast to those two countries LMAO

[santheinfluencer]

A Librarian’s Motive

Pairings~ Kim Namjoon x Black Reader

Genre~ Fluff & Romance

Summary ~ You go to the same bookstore every other day to enjoy the downtown scenery and even better coffee. One day your visit is more enjoyable than the rest.

Word Count~ ???

~

The summer’ heat crept into the early 90′s as kids and young adults were seen walking the streets of Seoul. Some enjoyed ice cream and others were seen with water bottles trying to beat the heat.

Luckily for you, the small yet spacious library kept you comfortable with your surprisingly second book since this morning.

“Second book already? That’s got to be a new record for you, y/n.” The red head beamed a smile at you before continuing to stock the once empty shelves with books that have been returned.

“Agreed! But to be fair, I was halfway finished with my other one. You’re actually putting it on the shelf as we speak.”

She paused as she looked in her hand to see the book you were just reading.

“Oh wow, how did I miss that?” You both giggled before you returned to your place in the book.

A couple more hours past as you can now see the sunset and the night life of Seoul starting to bloom. More restaurants opened along with clubs, bars, even indoor activities.

The bookstore would close within the next hour, so you decided to get your things together and finish up your last bit of coffee. Celeste, the beautiful red head from earlier seen you gathering your belongings and spoke up.

“Leaving soon y/n? Do you want to check out another book before we close for the weekend?” Because the library was privately owned, weekend visits were not an option.

“Not this time, I may visit a friend or actually make plans for once.” The girl smiled before going back to wiping the front desk counter.

“Your just like my grandpa back home in Scotland, such a shut-in, and would rather read with a cup of coffee.” While being here for school, Celeste would go on and on about her country if you let her. She even inspired you to visit one day.

Just before you exchanged your final goodbyes, a tall and handsome man with dark hair and square rimmed glasses made his way inside the library. He was dressed rather casually with long dark jeans and a shirt that showed how buff he was.

However, the thing about him that drew you in the most was his eyes...they were focused and cut right into you.

Delectable. That’s what he was.

“Celeste! you can head home early; I have a few things to take care of tonight.” After giving off a nod, the woman waves to you before going to the back to complete her routine.

While you were standing there gawking at the male, he turned to you and gave you a smirk and polite head nod before disappearing into the many shelves.

You quickly walked out of the establishment and going straight to your car.

To say you’re a blushing mess is an understatement. you could feel your brown cheeks turn warmer as you thought about the encounter.

“How have I not seen him before? He’s the owner...right?!” It was a bit odd in a sense. Considering you’ve been consistent with your library visits, how have you not seen that beautiful man? 

With a few deep breaths, you pulled out of your parking space and began driving the short distance drive to your apartment.

~

The weekend passed rather quickly with you having not done much; but catching up with a light workload and a small lunch date with one of your closest friends seemed to be more than enough for you.

It was now Monday, and you sat on your couch staring mindlessly at the tv as Jersey Shore played through your Hulu account.

Your calico kitten named Cinnamon took a liking to your lap as she lied sprawled out onto you.

You eyed Cinnamon before lightly moving her to the other side of the couch, in which she did not take lightly. You got ready to go where you enjoy the most.

The library.

Plus, this was a good excuse to get a new book...and see if that handsome stranger would make an appearance.

You slid on a pair of regular grey sweatpants along with a regular white crop tee and matching white converse. You were sure to touch up your hair with a bit of gel and made sure your edges were completed until you were satisfied.

The drive to the library was unlike any other time. Anxiety filled your body in slight hopes to even get a glimpse of the male...and maybe even speak to him if the anxiety didn’t get too much in the way.

This is what you needed...right? Besides, the worst he could say is no.

~.

After parking your car and making your way around the front of the building, your body felt hot, and your nerves were through the roof. 

You’ve spoken to plenty of guys and have gotten plenty of numbers, but this time felt so different. Perhaps it was because this time you were the one approaching the man? Maybe it was because you needed a little self-assurance and a confidence boost.

You entered the usually quiet library and seen that like usual, there were no more than ten people enjoying their books, some getting coffee, and some chatting amongst themselves quietly.

Celeste wasn’t here due to it being her day off, but luckily Jenna was here. 

You two weren’t as close as you and Celeste, but Jenna was always there for small chats and book recommendations when you needed her. However, Jenna is usually present for a few months at a time considering she visits her boyfriend in California for a few weeks at a time. 

You quickly went straight to the “Drama” section of the library and selected “How It Ends” by Laura Wiess. This was a traditional favorite considering you’ve read it a few years back.

You made your way to the small table next to a window that let in as much natural light as you needed.

It wasn’t long until you were a few chapters into the book and the library slowly gained more people...but sadly not the person you were looking for. College students, elderly, even young kids stopped inside to either return or check-out books...but sadly, not who you were waiting for.

Jenna spotted you with your long face and giggled before finishing her task with helping a customer before walking over to your slightly slumped figure.

“Why the long face? Are you waiting on a date to show up?” She gracefully placed her long dark hair behind her ear before fixing her small gold hoop earrings.

 “I wish. Last week I came here and saw a gorgeous man who I assume works here? He told Celeste to go home for the night while he locks up.” She looks at you intriguingly before shifting in her spot.

“What did he look like?”

You didn’t hesitate to give the memorized description that played in your mind like a broken record. From his eyes and deadly gaze to his tall and buff frame. 

As Jenna’s face lit up, you knew you’ve struck gold.

“Oh! I know who you’re talking about! Hes the owner of this library and our boss. I believe he owns two libraries, and the other is in Goyang.” As if on cue, the male you’ve been waiting for all along walks in.

He was dressed more formally than usual. He wore black slacks with a white button up and a different pair of glasses that weren’t like the solid black square frames you saw last time.

Jenna gave a light bow before the two began exchanging a few words in Korean.

Before going back to work, Jenna gave you a quick wink and headed off.

“I remember your face.” You glanced at the man and saw his deep dimples bury into his cheeks. “Mind if I sit with you?”

You mentally kicked yourself before nodding and returning a light smile.

~

A few minutes passed as you continued to read your book; stealing glances at the male every few minutes. He worked on his laptop and sipped from his iced coffee as his focused gaze never left the screen.

He was stunning.

You went back to reading until you were interrupted, but not at all mad.

“I hope this doesn’t seem like a strange question, but do you enjoy coming to this library? Or do you perhaps feel as if there could be improvements?” You were slightly taken aback before answering honestly.

“Not at all! The scenery and atmosphere are lovely and not at all overbearing. The coffee is amazing, and the service here is nice. I have no complaints.”

A light blush was spotted on his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“That’s good. I work to improve all of my establishments...I’ve also noticed you’ve taken a liking to this one.”

You glanced at him with a confused look in which he quickly stammers over his words and blushes harder from embarrassment.

“Sorry ma’am I didn’t mean it like that...I check my cameras after every few days and noticed you were a consistent visitor.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. To some it might be creepy, but it was no secret that you came very often.

“May I please have your name?” He smiled with dimples on full display as you both locked eyes.

“Kim Namjoon, and you?”

“y/n y/l/n”

You both spent the rest of the evening talking about the library, personal interest, and a small portion of your dating life. He was such a tree hugger and loved everything art and theatre life. You both talked about museums and upcoming shows that would be playing this time of month as well.

You both talked for so long, you didn’t even notice the night sky and how every person that once filled the library were gone.

“Well, it appears I should be locking up soon... would you be free to go on a date with me tomorrow?” 

You smiled at the male as he looked back with full anticipation.

“I would love too.

~

#namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #bts ambw #btsambw #bts namjoon #namjoon ambw

[sugar-petals]

can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house. 

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like. 

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine. 

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship. 

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like. 

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that. 

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same. 

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket. 

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching. 

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

#yoongi #yoongi hc #yoongi x reader #bts #bts x reader #bts hc #yoongi scenario

[jooniperhun]

The End of the Rainbow (2)

pairing: tall!black!reader x bts, poc!reader x bts, woc!reader x bts, black!reader x bts

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to (maybe) lovers, romance, comedy, misunderstandings, (slight) angst, smut (maybe??), idol!au

word count: 3.8k

rating: PG-16

warnings: swearing, mentions of anxiety

notes: slight sub! namjoon in here... sorry, it just wrote itself in lol

summary: Your current job as a travelling housesitter has taken you to many places, some strange and many wonderful. When the acquisition of a new client takes you to Korea for three months, you wonder if your self-esteem can survive being around so many other-worldly looking people. Also, not to be paranoid or anything, but maybeperhaps you’re being stalked by the same seven strangers? They’re pretty loud and always surrounded by a tonne of people, so you write it off the first few times.

But this shit is getting excessive, chile. And annoying…

Rhetorical question, but what lies at the end of a rainbow? You hope that it’s a pot of gold, but with the way that your luck has soured, it might just be seven short(er than you), rowdy leprechauns ready to flip your world sideways…

Chapter 1

She was going on her first social outing in Korea (the source of the K-Dramas that she loved so much that she ended up learning the language), and ___ would make damn sure that she looked her best during it. 

Rounding her top lip out by lining over her cupid’s bow then filling the lip in, ___ took her concealer and ensured that her lip-liner wasn’t a crooked mess. That task done, she swabbed a glob of lipgloss across her lips, rubbed them together, then applied her fake moles. The cool mist of setting spray wafted over her face.

___ smiled at herself in the mirror, happy with her appearance and checking to make sure that nothing was in her teeth. Her 18mm minks blinked back at her, lightly brushing the tops of her blushed cheeks. She hadn’t done The Most™ this time, as her revered 25mms were still preserved within their cases, but her face was still Beat For The Gods™.

Her ripped, highwaisted jeans pinched a bit at the fatty flesh that peeked between her belt and the edge of her cropped top, but she had long-since grown used to this sight. In fact, she had even come to love that part of herself. She was jiggly in places, and that was a-okay. 

As she still had some time before she had to leave to catch her train, she decided to kill it by locating the window that let the most sunlight in and taking pictures there. It wasn’t golden hour, as it was one in the afternoon, but the lighting was just right, regardless. The contrast between the cool, sophisticated tones of her room and the browns in her clothing and skin made for some immaculate self portraits. 

___ had long since learned to become her own photographer, as her height was a bit too tall for any modeling agencies to want to even consider her. Not to mention that her status as a black woman made opportunities just that much harder for her to procure. Yet, even with years of experience, self-modeling was still a bit awkward for her, and that translated in quite a few of the pictures that she had taken.

In the end, after she had ensured that the house keys and her wallet were in her purse and that Mickey had enough food and water to tide his cute little self over while she was gone, many of her pictures had been deleted in between her stepping foot out of the house and her ride to Times Square Mall. 

She was so invested in her phone screen on the train that she didn’t even notice the many stares that she gathered. From her large, beautiful afro to the mile-long length of her shapely legs, many native Koreans took in the rich, alluring aura of the black woman for the first time in their lives. The fact that her face was set in it’s usual intimidating expression was the only thing that put them all off of bothering her.

She was going to this mall mainly to see the world’s largest cinema screen, but the arcades and plentiful high-class stores also appealed (respectively) to her childish and bougie sides. Even though ___ knew that she was gonna do a whole lotta window shopping (her expensive tastes and her income didn’t correlate), she was quite ready to blow a lot of cash during her entire 3 month stay here.

Stepping off of the train and into the subway, ___ had never felt as small and alone as she did then, surrounded by all of these people who didn’t look like her. Not for the first time since she’s started the whole ‘cross-country housesitter’ stint, ___ wished that she had a friend with her. Alas, she was currently chasing a bag, and since it comes with all of the free travel and awesome cultural immersion, something had to be compromised. In this case, ___ would just have to try to make friends while she was here, but she’s not really all that hopeful of that outcome, what with her slight social anxiety and all.

Speaking of which, it was currently flaring up as she squinted at the signs, trying to navigate herself through the crush and towards the upper mall. Somehow, she ended up outside and in front of the large, intimidating buildings made of glass. The mall was so big that it had to be split into Gates, like at the airport. Taking note of the gate number that she was entering and hoping that she’d be able to find her way back to the train station from there, ___ stumbled through the spinning doors and immediately went about locating a map.

The noise inside was deafening, as it tended to be in malls. While the majority of the people inside were Korean, foreigners lulled about as well. It made ___ feel a little less alien, though the way that she towered over most of them subtracted a bit from that. Subconsciously, she started sucking her stomach in, which let up a bit on the pressure from her jeans and shifted the gait of her walk into something less relaxed and more confident. 

___’s first task was to find where the cinema was, as her movie was scheduled in an hour and a bit and she didn’t want to miss it by looking for it last minute. Luckily, the maps were in abundance and pretty easy to read. She decided to spend her time exploring the place by slowly making her way up the five floors. The first store that she went into had a strange, yet forgettable, name. It was a large department store with many women and children strolling along the walkways. Tables and shelves, almost overflowing with neat stacks of books, formed little islands. Between them, the polished, blank screens of electronic devices shone. The store didn’t really have anything that piqued her interest, so she ended up leaving pretty quickly.

This was the trend for the rest of her leisurely walk around two of the five floors that the mall had. On the third, something finally caught her attention— a small cafe tucked around the corner of the many cosmetic stores on the floor.

Walking in felt like stepping into a cozy, surreal painting. The scent of freshly grounded coffee beans wafted through the air and intertwined with the sweet aroma of baked pastries. Dark wood set in warm-toned cushioning curled around the shop, creating such a warm, homely atmosphere that ___ felt like she had stepped into an entirely different world. Already, several people were seated with cups of their own beverages and plates full of cakes and other desserts. Some were patiently waiting in line, face-masks pulled up and glasses perched on noses. A few people lounged in their respective areas with books in hand. Some were seated at the small dining tables, typing away on their laptops. Others chatted quietly with one another.

Somehow, the hustle and bustle of mall life grew hushed and muted in this small, quiet corner. 

The soft crinkling of pages being turned accompanied ___ on her way to the line. Already, she could taste the sweet, milky flavor of her boba contrasting with the sharp coffee of tapioca pearls. 

Across the room, dark eyes trailed her figure. Her wardrobe of choice and the rich tones of her skin made her fit seamlessly into the shop. As hard as he tried to pull his eyes away from the stone-faced beauty and back to his book, Namjoon found that he couldn’t. He didn’t know if it was the swing of her hips or the bounce of her voluminous hair that kept drawing his attention, but he knew that he had to kill whatever thoughts he was having, and quickly. 

Simply put, Namjoon didn’t have the time to go fraternizing with a virtual stranger. He had seen many beautiful women in his time as an idol travelling the world, and he knew better than anyone how time consuming even a simple one night stand could be. Before he even approached someone, he had to think about how any leaked information could damage the group’s reputation. And then he had to think about preventative measures to make sure anything like that didn’t happen, and actually carry those measures out. Even though most of the legal stuff like NDA’s and other contracts were handled by the company, sasaengs were still everywhere. All it took was one picture of his naked, turned back, and they would be on him and his brothers like a particularly stealthy group of leeches.

Not to mention, Namjoon was not a man with many earthly desires— at least, not anymore. He preferred to spend his time out in nature or in museums, either with or without a book, in search of a higher understanding of himself and of consciousness. Time was very precious to idols as busy as BTS because very rarely did they ever get any outside of the judging lenses of cameras or people. How the other members wanted to spend their free time was up to them, but Namjoon would prefer to spend his either in silence, or with his brothers in silence. 

And yet, his gaze continued to stray towards ___ as she moved forward in line. The music sweetly crooning from his airpods didn’t help the matter any farther, either. If anything, it set his own atmosphere to ‘romance’, rather than the initial ‘chill and relaxed’ he was going for. 

Now at the front, she visibly towered over the cashier, long limbed and slightly awkward in the way that only tall people could be. 

“H-how can I help you today, ma’am?” The dark-haired cashier stuttered, looking up at her warily and carefully avoiding her eyes. While she had served many foreigners in her years working at the mall, blank faced people were always a wild card. Sometimes they were extremely rude. Other times, they were perfectly polite. She could never tell with them, unfortunately, and, with the way ___’s face already punted her into the ‘scary’ category, her not inconsiderable height added to the cashier’s wariness as well.

However, all it took was one smile in greeting to crack her icy demeanor into thousands of tiny, little pieces. The sharp slant of her dark eyes, relaxed into narrowed slits that mirrored aloofness and displeasure, curved into merry arcs framed by lashes that brushed the flush of her cheeks. Her full lips, naturally slightly tilted down and shimmering with gloss, stretched upwards into a sweet smile. The plumpness in her cheeks swelled at their highest points beneath her eyes, transforming her face into something soft and honeyed, like dough. 

Suddenly, ___ was too adorable to look away from. 

“One bubble tea (originally flavored) and…” here, ___’s eyes swept across the cafe, briefly glancing over Namjoon (who’s table only had a single book, his airpods case, and his phone on it) in search of a snack to eat, “a slice of whatever that guy over there is eating, please.” ___’s voice, at a slightly lower register than usual as a result of disuse, gently filtered into Namjoon’s area. She had pointed in the direction of a nearby table with two young men calmly chatting with each other. Only one had an actual plate with food on it; the other had a single cookie loosely clutched in his hand. A wrapper divided the table between them. The cake in question was multilayered and looked as if each fluffy partition would dissolve satisfyingly on the tongue.

The cashier, with relief, went about her job of ringing ___ up and making sure that the order was received by the barista. ___ held the straps of her purse tightly to stop her hands from shaking too badly, feeling anxious being surrounded by strangers in such a private environment. She moved to where she could pick her order up and waited in the smaller line there, pulling out her phone and pretending to be busy so that people didn’t think that she was a total loser with no friends.

She felt the familiar prickling in her eyes that occurred whenever she felt embarrassed or overwhelmed, absentmindedly scrolling through her photo gallery and mentally trying to will the emotion away. It felt like everyone was watching her, which made her feel very exposed and self-conscious. She had to remind herself, over and over again as she briefly glanced around the vicinity, that everyone else was too caught up in their own lives to be paying her any attention.

Except for Kim Namjoon, who’s identity remained concealed behind his large, dark shades and fitted, dark mask. He considered just leaving the little sanctuary that he had carved out for himself here, as he kept getting distracted with ___ being directly within his line of sight. And, if he was being honest with himself, it was only a matter of time before a fan recognized him (disguise and all, with how often some of them watched him).

Still, Namjoon found himself glued to his seat, watching as ___ received the tray with her order and glanced around to find an unoccupied table. The only vacancies small enough to seat just one person without it looking weird were... in the area that he had secluded himself within. 

She took slow, slightly hesitant steps in his direction, carefully keeping her back straight and her hands as steady as she could get them in case her purse slid down from her shoulder and jostled the tray. 

Who the hell wears shades indoors? ___ asked herself as she passed Namjoon and settled into a seat behind him. Wait, that’s kinda insensitive. He could be bli— then, she peeped the edges of the whole ass book in his hands and stopped her train of thought. What are the chances that that book is in braille, though? 

Not wanting to be offensive, even in her own thoughts, ___ stopped thinking entirely to reorganize herself at the table. She perched her purse in her lap and dug her phone out of it’s confines, rooting around for her airpods while she was at it. If she was gonna be alone in this large ass mall, she was at least gonna be alone in style and rhythm. 

Her airpod case had a cute little sunflower pattern on it. She stuck both of her small, stickered airpods into her ears and started her music, pulling her camera app up and snapping a quick picture of her snack before taking her first bite. 

Her eyes almost rolled back at the taste.

I just know that if this shop was any closer to the house, my fat ass would be in this bitch every day.

The cake slice was gone with a quickness. If she wasn’t saving her stomach until she got to the food court, ___ would have definitely gone to order another. She pushed the tray with the dishes into the empty space on the table and grabbed her boba. The mellow flavor worked wonders to relax her as she scrolled through her photo gallery, editing the pictures that she had approved of earlier on the train.

Her little bubble of contented solitude wavered when Namjoon shifted into a stretch, popping his tensed joints and rolling his ankles around. He was still trying to recover from her scent’s surprise attack on his nose. When she had walked past him, it was like a bomb of cocoa butter and coconut went off, blending almost sinfully with the rich aroma of coffee and the sweet undercurrent of baked bread. 

This guy is giving me major creeper vibes, ___’s thoughts went back to the stranger again after his movement caught her eye. Even when her attention went back to fixing the lighting in one of her photos, some of her focus was still on him.

Of course, there wasn’t a day in Namjoon’s life when he didn’t do something embarrassing as a result of his own clumsiness. Overconfident in the integrity of his chair’s balance while he leaned back and stretched to his fullest extent, he was in for quite the shock when he tipped over with a mighty crash! 

His book went soaring through the air behind him, sliding to a stop at ___’s foot.

___, who has just placed one of her airpods on the table as she dug through her purse to better listen out for the jingling of her small makeup bag, jumped in surprise, jostling the table and sending her airpod flying in Namjoon’s direction.

It hit him in the head and knocked his own airpod out of his ear, as well. One rolled to the floor and skittered away. The other got lost somewhere between his face and his clothes. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and stopped awkwardly at his top lip, stuck. 

The quiet shop went even quieter. People’s heads began turning in their direction.

Namjoon froze, and slowly, his face began to fill with red. A man dressed nondescriptly in black stuck his head in from the cafe entrance, looking for the source of the sudden noise. He began making his way towards his charge once he got a proper grasp on the situation, pulling his walkie-talkie out and silently mummering into it: “All clear, here. Just Kim-ssi being clumsy. Have medics on stand-by, just in case he or anyone else is hurt.”

Before, ___ had only been able to see the broad expanse of his back and his biceps shifting as he flipped to a new page. Now, with half of his face exposed and his eyes staring straight up at her in mortified shock, ___… still couldn’t really say much about his features. He was upside down and still pretty concealed, after all. What patches of skin she could see were quickly turning deeper and deeper shades of vermillion. It was weirdly... cute.

“Um… are you okay, hun?” ___ asked with a pointed, concerned look. Her voice, still low and smooth like velvet, ran subtle waves across Namjoon’s ears. She placed her bag aside and slipped out of her seat, reaching down to grab the book at her feet and walking over to where he was lying prone on the ground.

By the time she had reached him to help him up, his bodyguard had as well. He attempted to block her from going any further as he pulled him up to his feet, but ___ was simply too tall for that to be effective. Namjoon felt himself beginning to curl inwards with all the eyes still on him, but easily suppressed the reflex with his years of 1) being a professional at concealing his emotions, and 2) embarrassing himself on camera.

“Haha, sorry guys. I’m a bit clumsy sometimes.” He bowed to the shop and rubbed the back of his neck apologetically.

“Kim-ssi, are you hurt anywhere?” The bodyguard asked. It took ___ a bit to remember that people were usually addressed by their last names in East Asia, as she had really questioned if the guy in front of her was really named ‘Kim.’

“No, really— that was a pretty loud fall.” She peeked out from above the manager’s head, still holding his book. The only thing on her mind was returning it and retrieving her airpod once he affirmed that he was a-okay.

“Oh— y-yeah, I’m okay. I-I’m used to stuff like this so I can’t really feel it anymore? Sorry about all the noise, haha.” He gave an awkward little laugh (—and probably an awkward little smile, but that remained unseen), shyly rubbing his neck again and making an aborted motion to cover his mouth with his hands before he remembered that it was already covered with a tiny strip of cloth. Inwardly, he cursed himself for stuttering. That was one of the largest tells of nervousness!

___ didn’t really pay his flustered fluttering any mind, however. She slipped around the man standing in front of her and held his book out towards him with a toothy grin. “I felt that. I stub this one toe of mine so often that I don’t even flinch anymore. Anyways, here’s your book.”

Her closer proximity suddenly made Namjoon realize that he had to look up to meet her eyes, and it made his increasingly rattled behavior even worse. To think that he had just begun to calm down, too...

“A-ah, thanks.” Even his fingertips were red as he reached out to accept his book back, but he could luckily just play that off as a slight stinging left over from his date with the floor. “I think something hit me in the head earlier, too, and it knocked my airpod straight out of my ear.”

___’s eyes widened as she subconsciously reached up to touch the ear that still had music lowly puttering into it. “I’m so sorry!” Here, she gave a quick, shallow bow. “I think that was actually my airpod! The sudden noise shocked me so badly that I accidentally knocked it off of my table!” Suddenly, it was her turn to look embarrassed. 

Okay, I’m ready to leave. That’s enough embarrassing yourself for one day, girl! She thought to herself, already beginning to scour the floors for her missing appliance.

“This is slightly awkward to ask, but have you seen it since it hit you? It has a little sunflower sticker on—”

When she turned her attention back to him, she found his bodyguard already beginning to usher him in the direction of the exit, uncaring that the tiny little music device that she spent an arm and a leg on was still missing.

“Okay, that’s just fucking rude.” ___ muttered in English, dropping her formal tone and proper pronunciation as she righted the weird guy’s upturned chair and continued her search alone. Luckily, the small dab of white was easily distinguished against the dark, hard-wood flooring of the cafe. She’d have to clean it thoroughly when she got back to the house. For now, she’d have to settle with the unbalanced feeling of having just one in her ear. Slightly irritating, but doable. 

Unbeknownst to her, Namjoon’s keen hearing caught her judgemental words and the ignominy almost crushed him. How many times had he embarrassed himself in front of the pretty girl, already??? Too many times to count.

He’d never live it down if the guys got wind of this, but there was no bigger gossip than a Bighit staff member. Sometime within the week, his business would be someone’s morning discussion. He reached up to adjust his dark gray beanie, pulling the edges over his ears to hide the reddening tips.

Tangled in the excess fabric of his high necked shirt, a single airpod with a sunflower sticker hid.

#black!reader x bts #black!reader #tall!black!reader #reader with common sense #bts #poly au #ot7 #ot7 x reader #romance #fluff #idol! au #poc!reader #poc!reader x bts #woc!reader #woc!reader x bts #ambw #namjoon x black!reader #namjoon x reader

[mintseesaw]

Mad Passion

Pairing: husband!namjoon x reader Genre: smut, fluff, arranged marriage!au Word count: 5.7k Warning: jealousy, possessiveness, mild teasing, unprotected sex

Part 1 | sequel

One of his men said he’s been working in his office at home all day, when you squeezed an information about his location. In some days, he was barely home. Some weeks even spent outside the country for business purposes. So it came a surprise for you to know he’s at home.

Pushing his office door open, you were instantly met by an intense atmosphere, seconded by the booming voice of Namjoon barking instructions to the caller you are unable to identify of. By the sound of his voice and the manner he talks, it could be one of his men. His one hand resting on his hip and his back is facing you, keeping your presence yet unknown to him. Your intention when you came to his office hanging in the air, while calculating your next move. Should you leave and come back later?

Your feet stepping back discretely to create no sound that would make him aware of your presence, or else, he would realize your entrance to his office unannounced. Half scared that he will divert his anger to you.

You were not anticipating his next move. In fact you thought he was too preoccupied from the conversation to even care of moving. Your calculated steps were cut short when he abruptly turns around. He stops mid-sentence at the sight of your presence. His tensed shoulders visibly relaxing. His eyes softening as they lock with your widened ones. His silence didn’t last long, but it was not to speak further with the person on the other end of the line. It was to cut the conversation which seemed to have been going on for longer than you estimated. This time, it was in a much calmer tone, of which his voice still laced with ire with the cause you have no knowledge of.

“Do you need anything, y/n?”

He was curious. You never go to him on your own will, unless if he asks to. When he does, it always comes out as an order. A command that no one will dare say no to. Your attention is always directed to anyone—anything but him. And seeing you here so suddenly piques his curiosity.

“You didnt have to do that, I was about to leave and come back...later.” You spoke, uptight, and your hands fidgeted. His eyes caught it.

Did he make you nervous? You shouldn’t have witnessed him in that state. Among the things about him that he does not want you to see or be aware of, the first on the list is his temper—the untamed beast in him. Now he suddenly finds the need to assure you. That even how angry he can be, never would he lay his hands on you.

Why are you here, again? He recalls you have yet to fill in his curiosity. When was the last time you went to him, again? Was it 2 months ago? When you came to inform him about your decision to go back to the coffee shop you used to work at. Not to mention that it was also the cause of your first serious argument with him. Your decision without consulting him had severely bruised his ego. A wife wants to work at a local coffee shop when your husband could probably be wealthier than all the all the coffee shop owners combined in the city.

He was furious. But his intimidating aura didn’t hinder you to fight back. Of course he has his ways to wring off the reason out of you.

“I just did. Now, do you need anything? Is your card not working?” Concern oddly laced in his voice. You noted.

He gave you the black card, limitless expenses for your needs. If not for his harmless threat which you took in seriously, you wouldn't think of accepting it. Your father gave you one when you went to college. But your will to live independently has you neglecting their financial assistance to your basic needs.

“The black card is not my concern. I didn’t come here just for that.” Your body language— the more he watches it, makes him aggravated the longer you talk in circles, not giving the answer he desires to hear. He took a step forward so that his thighs are pressing against the corner of the desk’s glass surface. He would have gone closer in the absence of it. As your wandering eyes stop at his peering ones, he made sure to leave no trace of emotion in his features, despite having mixed-emotions being with you in the same room.

“Then tell me.” He pressed, growing a little more impatient at your lack of cooperation.

“Your men...the ones who guard me… they harassed my friend.”

That’s it? That’s what made you come to him? A bead of jealousy nurtured through your concern with someone you care about, suddenly enveloping his mind. Your bodyguards are there for the exact same reason. Not only for him to be knowledgeable on your whereabouts, but to protect what solely belongs to him from everyone who threatens to steal you away from him as he’s not always with you to do it himself. The ones closest to you are no exception. They had to keep their distance for their own safety.

“They are protecting you.” Namjoon stated, dangerously calm to believe it is purely casual. He almost wants to shut off the subject and ask you about your day, instead.

When the words went past his lips, slowly comprehending his short statement, your eyes grew wider.

He definitely knew. Everything is reported to him. Every single thing that you do outside under your bodyguards’ watch, he’s full aware of it all. Except when you’re in the vicinity of the mansion.

“Y-You knew?” You stuttered in shock, for you expect the event that occurred just this morning was left unknown to him. You purposely want let him know so you can ask him to change the men in-charge of your security, condemning their inappropriate way of guarding you.

His lips pressed together, if it was to avoid answering your question, you’re not sure. But his silence confirmed it.

“Did y-you tell them to hurt him?”

Violence is not what he ordered for his to do, unless the incident calls for it. What his men did to your friend was not considered violence, he was warned. That you’re not allowed to be touched. Not when you’re legally bind to him. Not ever.

“They are protecting you, y/n.” He insisted, although his composure remains calm and collected, far from what you caught sight of earlier.

“He’s my friend! He’s incapable of hurting me!”

He stood still, his eyes lingers on you, as his lips formed a thin line, having no intention to speak yet. If someone else is treated with his silence and under the scrutiny of his piercing eyes, they would be shaking in fear by now. His thundering voice indicates an imminent adverse, but it is a better option than his silence. Being unable to elicit a reaction from him is the worst kind that can be likened by the calmness of the sky before it devastates the area where a storm lands. By the looks of you now, your head tilted to be able to return his gaze unaffected by his dark stare. He smile inwardly in the guise of the blazing fire of his jealousy, admiring your tough display.

You spoke further amidst his silence, “I didn’t even agree with having bodyguards in the first place.”

“I make the rules here, wife.” He simply reminds you.

His anger is something you wouldn't want to challenge but you have to set your boundaries in this marriage. Although you know, deep in your heart, he’s incapable of violence, him under the influence of his temper is a different story. “Do whatever you want, I don't care. Just...don’t touch my friends, Namjoon.” You stated, mentally shaking away the fear at the thought of being preyed under his fury.

“I cannot promise you that.” A side smirk slowly creeping up in his face, and a shiver ran down your spine from the sight of it.

A captivating man tainted with darkness. Someone you didn't want to get yourself involved with despite the fact that he’s the only man ever elicited a certain emotion within you. If only you were given the option to choose your future, you wouldn’t marry someone like him. Even if you might possibly have unrequited feelings for him.

You swallowed hard.

“Why?” You asked in a breathy whisper.

“I told you, sweetheart, I’m protecting what’s mine.” The endearment left you stunned. He was able to capture it under his scrutiny.

You have no idea how you recovered from your mild flabbergasted state. The next thing you know is you’re opening your mouth to remind him the real score between you and him.

“We both know what kind of marriage we have. There’s no need to stake your claim.” You challenged, feigning bravery with your unwavering stare.

“It doesn’t change the fact that you're my wife.” His smirk didn't falter and it’s severely affecting your agitation.

It was no longer the case when you spoke again. “I may be your wife, but you don’t own me.”

Like a breeze washes over you, you froze as his eyes grew darker piercing through yours, so sharp that you think it could almost hurt you, physically.

“What did you say?” He dangerously drawled, so painfully excruciating. You didnt dare speak again. Too consumed with fear to anger him further.

He strutted slowly, and with his towering height, he was able to close the distance with three long strides. His sudden move surprised you, that it was already too late to step back as he caught both of your arms, making sure to keep you immobile.

“Namjoon...“

You slightly flinched and your head lowering so you wouldn’t meet his dangerous eyes when he dipped his head to whisper right next to your ear marking you through his words alone. “You belong to me.” You didn't know how you gathered the strength to squirm in his captive. To get away from him. Having the obvious advantage, he didn't even budge as you try to push him away.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He stated so casually but in a lingering tone of warning. As if he would do something if you try to disobey him.

Your temporary inability to see his face seems to give you comfort under the severe effect he has from your proximity with him.

Namjoon is too close to your liking. His hand traveled to your cheek, then traces his fingers down your chin to level it up to his gaze. His dark eyes scream danger, but you were left unmoving from his arms. It should have made you fear for your life, for your security, so you should have tried to step back to protect yourself. But his nearness was making you strangely mute.

The sight of him alone activates your senses. He was not your first, but for you to desire someone requires your attraction towards the person. Namjoon is exquisitely attractive, a beautiful man, whom you’ve admire with not only for his physical flawlessness but also for his exceptional intelligence and his soft heart you’ve witnessed with your own eyes.

And right now, the tiny space you have in between is not helping your effort to clear away the wild thoughts running around your head. In fact, it severely adds up to your pooling desire of him. One which has never been satiated after your first and only night with him. The same night you married him in a civil arrangement.

The way his eyes never faltered, raking you all over sensually. He moved his head, burying his face on your neck. Taking in your alluring natural scent. The move alone shoots a sensation right at his length that is hardening the longer you stay this close with him when he can just do anything he wants. Anything. To relieve his long, unsatiated desire inside your deliciously tight core.

Namjoon’s hand loosened its hold on your arm and instead, circled it around your waist which allowed him to pull you further against him. The force of his pull without any kind of resistance from you causes a hard impact on your bodies. His move was fast and calculated, because the moment your chest collided with his, his palms cupped both of your cheeks and crashed his lips to yours. It didn’t prepare you enough, and you were left unresponding for a second before your needle-like strength to repel his deed, to fight your own need, gave in.

Entirely envelope with desire, you remained submissive under his hot kisses. His mouth, sucking and biting and playing with your tongue. It was there. His possessiveness. You can feel it through the manner he takes your mouth, to the way he keeps you close to him.

And your clouded mind is willing to be marked again in any way that he would.

Until you felt something on your stomach. A hard bulge. The proof of his arousal. Suddenly, guilt flicker through you—for what? Namjoon is your husband. Sticking for your conscience, you mustered up all the strength left in you to resist his advances.

“Stop…” It came out a sound of weak muffled against his dominating mouth.

“You don’t want this?” He echoed, tearing his mouth away from your bruised pair of lips just to suck a spot on your neck. The spot he once marked, and bruised it purple on your first night together.

“Why is that so hard to believe...” Namjoon darkly whispered.

Your hand unconsciously went up on his hair, tangling your fingers in between his locks. Your grip was firm but not enough to extract a sensation of pain from his scalp—until he went further down to nuzzle your clothed breast, his other hand squeezing the other that you let out a sound of strangled moan mixture of pain and bliss that your hand aggressively pull his hair.

He left the sensitive mound then went back north to trail kisses on your jaw, chin and on the corner of your lips. His mouth which you crave to touch with your mouth—intentionally avoids your lips.

Your voice croaked breathily as you plea for contact, “Namjoon,”

“You don’t want this, right?” He teased seeing as you’re visibly delirious from his ministrations when he pulled away. Your body feels hot and your limbs—like a jello, that you would have met the marble floor sooner if not only for his firm hold around your waist. His reflex further let your bodies even closer. You didn’t care. But the one thing which you anticipate impatiently is not happening it seems. Namjoon is doing nothing other than keeping you standing on your toes.

“Please,” you couldn't believe you’re hearing yourself beg, barely recognizing your voice.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He murmured against the skin of your throat, nibbling it. You heard him, but his words went past your ear without being comprehended. Too delirious to heed on anything but his kisses. Your eyes are tightly closed, thus, your temporary inability to see made you much more sensitive from your other senses. Especially your sense of touch.

His mere contact reminds you he’s this close to you, trailing hot kisses from your neck and shoulder. Excitement bubbles up in you when his hand traveled down the waistband of your pants, skimming inside so he can palm you through your wet underwear. To feel your arousal. The simple act left you even more desperate than you already are.

You want more of him, and you want him to touch more of you.

“How come you’re soaking, sweetheart?” He taunted sensually.

No reply came out of your mouth, throwing your head back crying instead, as you felt him thumbing your sensitive nub. One of your hands flew to his shoulder over his back to find something to cling on. The other tightening their grip on his hair.

His assault didn't stop as he continued to strum your bare clit and you’re not even sure how long you’ll last before reaching the end from having no sexual activity since you married him.

To your delight, Namjoon inserted two long fingers into your leaking hole which made you cry from the abrupt entrance. Stretching your walls enough to make you writhe in his captive of which is initially to keep you intact on the ground. He didn't give you time to adjust as he fingers started stroking deep inside you.

The sight in front of him is what he’s been fantasizing to do to you. To make you feel good...and more.

When he curled his fingers inside your hole sucking him tight, a particular moan emitted past your beautiful, luscious lips. His name left your mouth repeatedly.

A fucking music to his ears. His dick jerking at the sound alone, suffocating his intensifying arousal that the painful restriction of his slacks is getting too difficult to ignore. He suddenly withdrew his hand.

And then all the sensation stops. You suck a deep breath, surprised and deprived at the lost of contact. A sound of protest came past your throat, too desperate for a proper release. Your eyes snapped open, wanting to know why he briefly stopped. Ready to beg for more.

You couldn't see his face, as he has it buried in your neck.

“Mine.” He claimed. His ragged breathing is doing nothing but amplifies your hunger. He had you all weak and motionless when all he did is kiss you and touch you down there.

He grinded his bulge against your center which you gasped in return. “You want it, my sweet little slut?” He taunted playfully, tormenting you further. His mouth found the shell of your ear, biting it gently.

“Yes,” You responded in a breathy whisper.

“You’re mine.” He went further. A strong arm circled your waist, silently taking you with him as he strutted forward, your feeble strength easily allowed him to push you into the long tuxedo couch far across his furnished table. He spun you around and coaxed you down so that you’re kneeled on the cushion, your arms instinctively planted on top of the inside back for support, anticipating his move. He remains where he stood, right behind you.

“Namjoon.” Whining, disregarding his claim earlier when he seems to have no plan to take you yet.

“Right, sweetheart?” He attempted, fishing for your submission. You felt his fingers hooked on the thin waistband of your panties, then harshly pulled it together with your pajama bottoms. His moves are precise when he nudge your knees up one after the other using his hand to fully remove the material off of your feet while you’re slightly trembling from the prolonged anticipation. His hand went in between your ajar thighs to part them further, caressing the inside of your thighs and teasing you more.

The new position gives you no opportunity to see see him clearly. And even though he is close, by the way he has his hands are rubbing softly on the skin near your center, it was not enough. You want to watch him—observe his features while you two are intimately connected.

”Did you say something, baby?”

What? You were uncertain what he’s referring to.

And then he pressed his hips behind you, grinding his crotch into your bare, leaking core. His hand sneaking past for your stomach, flicking your clit in a circular motion.

“Oh fuck yes yes.” You moaned, not minding how desperate you sound.

“Oh my—“ His thumb rubbing your clit mercilessly. Two long digits from his unused hand once again found its way inside you, “Namjoon!”

You became too sensitive that you’re sure you can come any second, now.

Your high-pitched voice echoed through the room when he withdrew his hand for the second time of the night. Crying out, “No, please… please…” Attempting to peer behind your shoulders to look at him, his hand on your shoulder firmly kept you in place restricting you from doing so.

Then you heard a belt buckling. That was the only your senses allowed you to know and then his hand is back on your skin. This time it was on your waist that he is clasping tight, keeping you securely close to him.

“You want to cum, y/n?” He asked so suddenly. You didn't know why he still needs to wring it out of you when the mere sight of you already provides the answer.

You vigorously nodded. “Yes, please.” If it weren’t for your clouded mind, you wouldn’t be so vocal about your desire towards him.

The cushion beneath your knees dipped a little as he placed his foot up near your right leg. Your core clenched and your head thrown back when he unexpectedly rubbed his hard length into your center. Sliding it painfully slow. Wanting more, wanting it where you ache the most. Please...

“Then who do you belong to?”

“Namjoon, please.” You. The intention to verbalize the word was restricted down your throat. Choking, when you felt the head of his cock at your entrance. He stilled when you left no respond from his question.

“Answer me!” He demanded dangerously.

You gave him what he wants to hear, hoping that he would give in.

“I’m yours, only yours—fuck!” The moment Namjoon heard the magic word, he bucked his hips, ramming his dick inside you in a ruthless pace making you scream from the excruciating intrusion. Your back arching, your eyes rolling from the back of your head from the severe stimulation. Too much of what you can take. His hard and thick length filling you so full, being extremely stretched that the pleasure was overpowered by pain. But you didn’t mind. It has been too long since he last fucked you that you can take anything that he offers. On the other hand, the sounds pouring from your mouth indicates how good you feel despite the pain.

Your thighs trembling from the pressure of keeping you in your position, your body quivering from the endless pleasure as Namjoon brought you to your peak.

“Fuck!” He growled, “You’re gripping me so tight, sweetheart.”

His hands firmly planted on your waist and the faster he thrusts into you the tighter his fingers dig onto your skin that you’re certain they will leave a fingerprint on your skin. Meeting you halfway as his hands on your waist pull you back to him every time he slides off emptying your walls then quickly fill you again, stretching your walls deliciously.

He kept his pace fast and hard.

“Nam— shit! Oh God!” You moaned, loudly.

If there is energy left in your body, it probably lies in your hands and knees trying to keep yourself up as he pounds you relentlessly.

“That good, huh?” He said in between his thrusts, giving your behind a faint slap.

He feels good, knowing where to stroke, and when to go fast making your walls involuntarily convulse around his thick shaft. It hasn’t been long, but you knew you’re already close, you could feel the familiar building up at the pit of your stomach and spreading rapidly to your abdomen.

“Please…I-I’m…” You stammered, feeling too lost for words that you couldn’t find the the strength to finish your statement.

“You’re what, baby?” His tone is controlled, concealing any hint of desire in his voice.

His strokes were fast and deep. You could feel it coming down on you.

“Namjoon, please!” You beg deliriously for him to keep going as you feel it approaching.

The way his palms dug deeper on both of your sides indicates that he knows you’re close. His thrusts went abnormally faster that you stopped breathing, mouth ajar as you suck in oxygen but never releasing a breath out.

Despite feeling too lost from the intense pleasure, his sounds laced with pleasure didn’t escape your senses. His steady strokes on your walls and the grunts coming past his mouth pushing you further in the brink.

“Namjoon!” You whined before a scream ripped out of you as an intense orgasm hits you. The remaining strength you have suddenly evaporating as pleasurable waves wash through you, making your head fall forward on the inside back cushion.

He just fucked you. In his office. Is it a regular thing for him to do it here? It shouldn’t matter, because for you, what you two physically shared gives you something. Another memory to recall of. Especially when you’re yearning for him, wishing that things are different. That he sees you as someone he’s attracted to or someone he has genuine feeling with. And not someone he’s obligated to tend to, someone he can fuck only because it’s his right.

Your clenching insides stutter his strokes impedes him a little to go even deeper than intended, but nonetheless your convulsing muscles has put him on edge. Your walls choking his length tightly is enough to feel himself nearing the end. Few thrusts in and out after your orgasm and he’s already coming undone moaning your name for the first time and spilling his seed deep in your core. Wishing that you’re not on birth control so he could possibly make you conceive.

Feeling him intimately— it’s different. And it doesn’t matter if it’s not the same for him. You’re not asking for his feelings to reciprocate yours. For now, you can be complacent despite having no assurance that your emotions will be secured in the future.

Bearing your last memory, was when he urged you to lie down and wiped you clean, not realizing that darkness is already enveloping your senses. Unaware of what has occured after that.

Unknown to you, Namjoon carried you towards your shared bedroom.

When he came back to you after he disposed the used tissue, he expected anything but your figure sleeping soundly on the couch, with your head lying uncomfortably on its arm. If only the couch is appropriate to be slept on, he would let you sleep on it while he watches you across his desk.

When he has placed you on the mattress, covering your body up until your shoulders with the thick cover, he discarded his work attire which he was unable to do so when he has ravished you earlier.

His hunger has been long overdue that even the sense of unbuttoning his dress shirt was disregarded as he could wait no less than a moment.

He proceeded to the large bed beside you after putting on a sweatpants. To watch you for a while before sleeping.

There was never a night that passes without him watching you while you sleep. It was always you who sleeps first and he makes sure you are when he enters the room late at night. His days and nights are always spent at work, intentionally. He permits no time for himself to see you or talk to you longer than the simple greetings, because your presence —he craves for it, despite showing no emotions every time you’re around. The least he could do is to pretend.

It was four years ago—the first time he saw you. At a coffee shop. He knew there was something extraordinary with you aside from the fact that you seemed unfit to be there despite wearing the same uniform like the rest of the baristas. Out of place. To be behind the counter, taking orders from strangers, customers.

He was infatuated, even though the only thing he knows about you is your name and the coffee shop you work at. He has all the connections and sources to dig information about you, but he restricted himself from touching your life—even as having a glimpse of it. For several months—ten months to be precise he complacently watch you from afar. Stopping by on the cafe for a few minutes on his way to work. Time passes so quickly because when you’re gone, nowhere in sight inside the establishment, months seemed only days. He has the means to search for you, but it would be useless. He wouldn’t have you, anyway. Someone like him does not deserve to have you in his life.

He was only infatuated. That was what he kept reminding himself of whenever an image of you regularly visits his mind. It was nothing but a mere admiration.

None of his wildest dreams of you have prepared him for what was offered to him years after. Merging of companies he does not need, thus, all that attempted to offer him have been turned down without taking a first look on the proposals. 

But one among all those stood out.

It was you having his last name— if he accepts your father’s business deal.

The infatuation has gradually nurtured the longer he has you in his life. Yet, until now, he’s not making a move that could, perhaps, get you to like him. Or at least, will make you comfortable around him.

What did he to deserve this life? To have all the things his money could afford, and to have the woman of his dreams. Although the latter holds the much more relevance than the other.

He scooted closer so he could reach for your hair and cheeks. Stroking light caresses as not to wake you up. You look so peaceful, so pure, like an angel, and small compared to his figure. He was rough. There was no he couldn’t have physically hurt you. If there was any indication of any pain you’ve felt while he was ravishing you raw, he’s certain he didn’t see or hear one. You took all of it, responding only with pure bliss.

His heart skipped a beat when you stirred, whispering his name as your brows furrowed like you’re calling for him. Although out of conscious, you have found him through your searching hand and snuggle deeper into him burying your face further in his chest.

He stilled in his position for a second, before hesitantly circling his arms around you.What would you think when you wake up with him cuddling you like this? He has no idea. And he shook his conscience away, embracing the chance to touch you. Twice of which he only got when he initiated an intimacy with you. His lips pressed softly against the top of your head before closing his eyes shut.

You woke up at the unfamiliar sound of a phone ringing. It must be his phone. Your intention to stir, to turn to the other side halted from something hard and warm wrapped on your waist. The object is warm and seems like a human—is it...him?

The blaring noise rings your ears as it was kept unanswered. Your eyes fluttered open, momentarily seeing nothing, as your nose is flushed against his warm neck. Tilting your head, you recognized the familiar room. The master’s bedroom. Your last memory was in his office. How you got here remains a mystery to you, yet. You wiggled a little in an attempt to pry his limbs off of you.

And while you attempted to move, you heard him groaned. Is he awake? Your cheeks heat up when you realized he’s half naked. However, you made no move to push him away. Although your head is now on the pillow next to his, while your body remains locked in his arms..

You crane your neck to see his face. With his eyes closed, he reached out for the device in his bedside table as if he knew where he placed it before he slept last night.

He pressed the phone right on his ear. His eyes traveled to your figure the moment he peeled them open. A flicker of surprise hinted in his eyes before it disappears.

You heard him spoke briefly then put his phone back to where he got it from. It was unclear what it was about and why he seemed to abruptly cut the call short as your mind is still clouded from being forcefully woken up by the loud ringing of his phone.

His bare chest giving you a silent reminder about what happened last night. You’re even scared to discover whether he wears something to cover his bottom or it’s just the duvet doing the job. You hoped it’s the former.

“Good morning.” He greeted softly with his morning voice. Raspy and low.

You didn’t know how to act like you normally used to, especially after what happened last night. The things you did last night—there’s one thing to sum it up. You’re desperate to be fucked. It gets much clearer now, further recalling all the details that occured. The tinted crimson visible on your cheeks never fading. You’re ashamed, does his perception of you change now?

“Good morning, Namjoon.” You replied shyly.

Hesitantly, you spared him a glance and created a little movement to give him a signal that you’re getting up. His arm that’s securely wrapped over your back fell on the bed to give way.

When you have stood up and is on your way towards the bathroom, he spoke not to your expectation, “You have classes today, right?”

“Yeah.” You turn on your shoulders to peer at him. He was already sat up on the edge of bed. A sigh of relief past your lips silently as you notice a fabric poking through the duvet that is covering his lower body.

“I’ll be working all day here in my office.” He casually stated.

Your eyebrows forming a line in confusion. Why is he sharing this information all of a sudden?

“Okay? That’s...good I g-guess.”

He chuckled, “What I mean to say is, maybe, you want to go out tonight?”

Your eyes remains at him, “Like...dinner?” You trailed.

“Yeah, if you’d like that then we’ll have dinner.” He nodded.

“Uh...I’m fine with that, if you’re not busy?”

He gave you a smile one that showed his dimples.

You clearly don’t understand what just happened. He asked you out? He never did that before. What has changed?

Hope you enjoyed reading the first part.

mintseesaw © 2019

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #hyunglinenetwork #btsprotectnet #bts smut #bts x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #namjoon imagines #namjoon scenarios #namjoon fanfic #namjoon au #bts au #bts fanfic au

[rwiwriting]

a rundown of why omelas is so important thematically to bangtan’s entire concept

This isn’t going to be MV analysis, per se, because this is just a teaser. I’m not going to tell you who dies (there are 5000 people doing it already please guys don’t ask this of me), or what’s going on, but the theme behind the mv, and the BLATANTLY POLITICAL commentary that makes it so important.

Okay, this might seem like jumping the gun, but BTS have done criticism before on society. Heck, other than Boy In Luv and War of Hormone era, each comeback has been increasingly outspoken. Their debut MV, No More Dream, was about the extremely pressuring education system in South Korea, as was N.O. So something like Spring Day, their new comeback, wouldn’t seem too out of place. Omelas, the glowing neon sign, seems to be the false utopia whose metaphorical existence depends entirely on the suffering of the youth. 

So what makes this comeback so radically different from any of the others?

Let’s look at the summary of the short story before we move on to themes, which you can read here. If you have read it already, CTRL+F to the subversion, but if you want a quick rundown anyway, look below.

Omelas is an utopian society, but not a society like, say, the original Utopia in Thomas More’s story. This utopia is almost the definition of free, has very little restrictions, and the people there celebrate life, not death. We are not explicitly told what it is like, but the writer actively encourages us to image that there are no soldiers, or kings, or even manned temples. It is a republic, of sorts - there is a discourse on what is necessary for happiness, and we are urged to imagine whatever we would see fit for it. Free wifi? Sure, why not? Orgies? Yep. What a beautiful state!

Except there’s a catch. This utopia hinges on one thing: The suffering of a lonely miserable child locked in a cage in a dark basement, given up by the entire city as beyond saving. Because saving it would mean that the whole of Omelas would crumble to dust. 

(Yeah, that’s Taehyung in the Stigma short film. Are they referring to this concept that they planned earlier? You bet.)

Everyone in Omelas knows about the child, but they don’t do anything. Every child and adolescent has the concept of it explained to them before they are taken to see it, and they all recoil in disgust. And although they rage and despair, nothing can be done except to return home.

There are always exceptions, of course. Once in a while, the adolescents, or even older people who go to see the child will never return home at all and start walking away from the city into the darkness. And that is where it ends. Abrupt? Perhaps. But it gets the point across.

The next part: What do we take away from this story?

Let’s go over the main themes once.

It’s the subversion of the common morals that humankind seems to exhort others to follow. 

This is interesting, because the author stresses that this is an utopia and it would never exist in real life. Yet excessive, unrestrained lust and passion are very real in our times, to the point that people whom we look up to as role models fall to corruption. It’s even more interesting when you consider that the concept of Wings itself was temptation - and in a Utopia like Omelas, there is no temptation at all, because all your wishes have already been granted. But the question is: have they truly made you happy?

Given the situation of the government in South Korea right now [Park Geun-hye’s Downfall] [Choi Soon-sil Gate Part 1] [Choi Soon-sil Gate Part 2] it’s very, VERY interesting. There’s more resources at Ask A Korean if y’all want to read up on the political situation there, some of which also come into play later.

What’s more interesting is that Namjoon - who we already know had a hand in Demian being part of the concept for Wings - has stated that he was influenced by Albert Camus’ The Stranger in this book excerpt interview that @papercrowns on twitter has generously translated for us. The Stranger has a very...pointed theme, so as to speak. In a nutshell, it’s about a man who kills another man. 

To expand - it’s about a dude named Mersault who feels no despair at his mother’s funeral, and feels no guilt after killing a guy on the beach, and doesn’t even feel any emotion when he is about to be executed, except for anger at a society that does not understand him. Tl;dr according to the author, there are only two truths: we live and we die.

(The murder happens on the beach, btw. Interesting, considering Jimin is standing on the beach holding a pair of shoes, which appear next tied to a tree. Which can signify death. Huh.)

This is what Camus himself said in 1955: “I summarized The Stranger a long time ago, with a remark I admit was highly paradoxical: 'In our society any man who does not weep at his mother's funeral runs the risk of being sentenced to death.' I only meant that the hero of my book is condemned because he does not play the game.”

In short, Mersault - is not someone who should be emulated. His actions are born out of pure apathy. However, as a critic has pointed out, paradoxically - “Mersault’s ultimate vindication is in having remained true to himself and to his feelings in a society that cultivates deception and hypocrisy.”

That is essentially what Omelas is. The very concept of happiness in it is built on a lie - on the suffering of a lone child except of cherishing others. People in it cherish their family more because they know that child suffers, not despite it, and make no move to save it.

Now, we see that guilt is an unknown variable. The author writes -

“To exchange all the goodness and grace of every life in Omelas for that single, small improvement: to throw away the happiness of thousands for the chance of happiness of one: that would be to let guilt within the walls indeed.”

The children, or adolescents, who first go to see the child beneath Omelas, realize immediately how terrible its state is. However, they make no move to rescue it and start to justify to themselves why they are incapable of saving it. 

Ultimately it boils down to the greater good - and the fact that the child is beyond all saving, since its mental faculties may never be recovered even if it is rescued at the cost of breaking down that entire ideal world. It has already been battered and bruised, even if it knew happiness once. What is the point?

Which is where we hit the root of the problem.

This concept is a political and social commentary.

There’s no doubt that some of this would be very familiar to us. The wretched state of the child - it could be any youth suffering in a third world country, a child dying in an underdeveloped zone, a starving boy in Africa or a homeless girl on the streets of our own city. We hear about them every single day, but none of us make any move to help, because we believe they are out of our reach. 

Society has essentially been built on their blood, sweat and tears and we still want more. 

So what do they prescribe to break out of it?

Let’s go straight back to the story itself. The people who leave Omelas go either west or north, towards the mountains, the Eighteen Peaks referenced in the story. I should point out that the YNWA logo looks very much like a compass, here. But I’m not a design student, and someone else could point that out better. They leave silently, and the author says -

“The place they go towards is a place even less imaginable to most of us than the city of happiness. I cannot describe it at all. It is possible that it does not exist. But they seem to know where they are going, the ones who walk away from Omelas.”

There can be only one possible analysis of this powerful ending paragraph. Essentially, The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas is plotless precisely because it is a social critique. And these fortunate few in Omelas are the ones who have discovered a precious emotion that they cannot live without - guilt. The adults in Omelas are aware of that child underneath the city, but they ignore its existence and nurture their children more because they are aware of its suffering, unable to provide it succor because of their own self-preservation. They have, essentially, erased all guilt from their system.

But the ones who walk away have experienced it, and can no longer stay silent. They must protest. They must fight. And they fight in the only way they know how - not with violence, but by walking away from the constructed happiness of that society which thinks a child’s suffering is acceptable for the greater good.

And really? Haven’t they been saying that since debut? Except, what else is this but a very unsubtle reference to the peaceful protests in South Korea demanding the impeachment of Park Geun-hye? 

That same head of state whose associate embezzled millions? The same head of state who was absent from duty for several hours while hundreds of children drowned?

BTS are making a political statement. They’re doing it in the only way they know how - through their music. They’re being respectful, but they’re not being subtle.

Can I tell you if this is all going to be in the music video? Nah. Can I prove that anything I said isn’t just speculation on my part? Nope. In fact, don’t go quote me on it, I definitely don’t speak for BTS or BigHit or whatever their brilliant minds are planning next.

But the fact that they chose to deliberately reference such a controversial piece of philosophical writing that actively promotes peaceful protests is more than telling. Or you know, that their album is literally called You Never Walk Alone. It’s not just about the organization, or some donation. Look.

That, I think, amply showed us that you never walk alone. Not for a good cause. You just have to take the first step.

Peace out.

#you never walk alone #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #bangtan boys #wings: ynwa #commentary #ynwa commentary #god fuckign bless natasha for the pics I'm terrible at giffing and stuff #there's going to be a part 2 of this at some point #I still have to compare this with demian and expand on it #this was fun but exhausting to do #DON'T FUCKING REPOST THIS #I'll add citations in the morning or something. #Or something. #rwiwrites #NO ONE IS GOING TO FUCKING READ THIS WHY. DID I WRITE SO MUCH. #the things i do for bangtan #meta #it's 1:48 am and i have the worst fucking cramps goodbye