#things that remind me of kim namjoon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joon4eva · 1 year

Text

home — kim namjoon.

summary: in a world of distractions and uncertainty, namjoon's only wish is simple yet profound: to always find his way back home—to you.

genre: established relationship / idol au ✰ fluff ✰ smut (18+ pls)

word count: ~5,804 words

tags/warnings: so much kissing, namjoon is so needy, kitchen sex, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, doggy-style position, voyeurism, creampie, aftercare, there's slight angst if you squint - oc confronts namjoon about his mental health but just straight up domestic as hell afterwards (pls give me)

masterlist :)

the moment the sun had risen, the day had felt incessantly long for namjoon.

the door to his apartment swings opens and he can't help but let out a tired sigh of relief.

he steps inside and quietly closes the door behind him, leaning against it and closing his eyes for a moment to catch his breath and soak in the warmth of being back home.

slowly lifting his heavy eyelids, he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his coat before sluggishly making his way towards the inviting kitchen.

every step feels like a struggle as he deals with the splitting headache that's been plaguing him all day. it seems like anything that could have gone wrong this week did.

dance rehearsals had proved to be nothing short of disastrous. hobi had constantly been on namjoon's case about each little misstep; it felt as if there wasn't even a single moment of peace to be found.

things only seemed to get worse when namjoon retreated to his studio, only to endure a painful eight-hour session without managing to stitch together a single line of lyrics. every imaginable obstacle and setback had plagued him.

maybe the worst of all was how much he missed you. it had been more than a week since he last saw you properly – only catching glimpses of you in the mornings when you shared a quick kiss at breakfast or late at night when you were already asleep, and it only compounded the stress he was feeling.

namjoon nears the kitchen, but stops dead in his tracks - suddenly realizing how different his apartment seemed tonight.

his usually dim apartment is lit up with warm light that softly spills into every corner. there's soothing music emanating from the vinyl record player – playing an album that you'd bought together; and perhaps most strikingly, the most enticing smell dances tantalizingly through the air, coming from the kitchen.

a soft smile graces his lips when he takes in the sight of you, humming to yourself as you stir something on the stove.

between stirs, you take small, appreciative sips of wine from a glass resting on the nearby counter. you were also wearing that green floral sundress that he adored so much, the one that never failed to remind him of that first time he saw you in it.

—

he recalled sitting comfortably in the living room, engrossed in a book, when you shyly walked in wearing the new dress you had bought. the soft sound of your voice beckoned his attention, and as he lifted his gaze, his breath caught in his throat.

"what do you think?" you asked, giving a little twirl as you stood in front of him.

his eyes widened as he took in the sight before him: your figure beautifully framed by the mid-thigh length dress, a tempting side slit elongating your legs. the dress hugged your curves perfectly, emphasizing the swell of your breasts that filled the cups just right.

for a moment, he simply stared at you, rendered speechless by how absolutely stunning you looked.

worried that his silence meant he didn't approve, you looked down at floor and asked hesitantly, "do…do you not like it?"

snapping back to reality, namjoon tossed his book on the coffee table and swept you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you as he pulled you onto his lap.

his fingers gently cupped your chin, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze, the heat of your breath mingling as your noses brushed against each other. "i love it," he murmured against your lips.

his tongue darted out, moistening his lips before he pressed a teasingly damp kiss to the corner.

"really?" you asked breathlessly, anchoring yourself by clutching onto his broad shoulders.

"really," he hummed approvingly as his large hands slid beneath the fabric of your dress, cupping and squeezing your ass.

his lips tenderly planted soft kisses along your collarbone, trailing down to the curve of your breasts. guiding your hips forward, you could feel the growing hardness beneath namjoon's shorts brush deliciously against your clothed clit, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

before either of you knew it, your dress was bunched up at your waist, exposing your bare skin to the air as you sank down on his cock, feeling him divinely split you open. and with that same dress still on, he skillfully brought you to climax not once, but three times.

—

in swift, purposeful strides, namjoon closes the distance between you, his presence enveloping you from behind.

startled by his sudden arrival, your body tenses for a moment before recognizing the familiar touch. a soft sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you allow yourself to relax into his strong arms as they encircle you, embracing his solidity and warmth against your back.

his lips graze against the sensitive skin of your earlobe, imparting an enduring trace of warmth as he gently plants a swift yet tender kiss there. his breath, which is warm and welcoming, brushes against your ear as he whispers a soft greeting in a tone that is both low and smooth.

"hi," he murmurs with an almost seductive timbre.

you slowly turn within his hold, facing him directly, feeling his hands shift to find stability on the counter behind you. his fingers curl and tense slightly to accommodate his weight while effectively ensuring you remain close to him, trapped within his proximity.

"hi," you reply softly, feeling an uncontainable smile spread across your face.

namjoon's dark eyes drink in every detail of your appearance, unabashedly checking you out.

his gaze trails lingeringly over your chest for just a moment before finding its way back to meet your own eyes again. unable to contain yourself, you let out a soft giggle as you catch him in the act.

namjoon simply grins at your knowing expression before narrowing the already-minimal gap between you further.

closing that final distance between you both completely with a sweet yet short kiss pressed upon his pouted lips; namjoon offers an exaggerated look of disappointment in response to the briefness of the contact — only making you smile wider and ready to indulge him further.

"you could've lingered a little longer.”

"i didn't realize i was being timed," you retort playfully and press another feathery light kiss on the tip of his nose.

he chuckles softly at your words and leans down to lock his lips with yours again, this time deepening the kiss, as his arms wrap securely around you.

your own hands instinctively find their way to his broad shoulders and upwards to cradle his face.

namjoon breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, but continues to keep you close, his eyes searching yours for a confirmation of some unspoken question.

"i missed you," namjoon confesses, his tone genuine and vulnerable, as he unconsciously resumes pressing delicate kisses on your exposed neck and shoulder.

"i missed you too," you admit, biting your lip to hide a grin.

an appreciative hum escapes namjoon's lips as he pulls back just far enough to see your face again. he gives you a tender smile that manages to be both somber and radiant at once.

in an instant, however, the moment is interrupted by the sudden billowing of steam from a pot on the stove.

you part from his embrace to quickly stride over to the stovetop and move the pot to a different burner, shutting off the burner completely.

with deft movements, you grab a wooden spoon from the countertop and give the contents of the pot a swift stir, ensuring that nothing has scorched during your brief interlude.

namjoon watches you from a distance, a contented and endearing smile slowly spreading across his face as he observes your movements.

unable to resist any longer, namjoon saunters over to where you stand working at the stove. he quietly positions himself behind you once again and lovingly wraps his arms around your waist.

his fingers teasingly wander along your hips and thighs, tracing delicate patterns through the fabric of your dress and eliciting a mix of laughter and mild admonishment from you.

his nimble fingers begin their descent down your abdomen, teasingly grazing lower and lower until they flirt with the hem of your dress.

"namjoon…" you chastise him in a tone laden with feigned exasperation. "i'm trying to cook here," you continue while juggling between suppressing giggles and maintaining focus on the task at hand. he chuckles as his hands persist in their exploration, not deterred by your plea.

the warmth of namjoon's breath cascades onto your neck as he presses tender kisses upon your delicate skin.

as he presses his lips against a particular spot on your neck, he feels satisfaction when he hears a soft moan escape your mouth with pleasure that is undoubtedly amplified by the sensitive reaction your body is having to his touch. it seems as if your will has started to waver, causing namjoon to switch from gentle pecks to a firmer bite that leaves a mark.

"but i want you," he whispers into your ear. "let me have you, please."

the bulge in his pants is almost painfully obvious now, as he presses firmly against you. his longing is tangible in every word he utters.

just then, he deliberately sinks his teeth into a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and sucks on it softly, eliciting a moan that escapes your lips before you even realize it.

namjoon's hands slip under the hem of your dress and graze dangerously close to your panties. his fingers slowly make contact with your clothed heat, and every muscle in your body momentarily seizes up as a small gasp escapes your lips. the unexpected sensation prompts your head to drop back onto his sturdy shoulder, struggling to suppress another moan.

"can i?" he inquires voice barely audible, awaiting your consent.

in that instant, one thing becomes abundantly clear: the dinner simmering on the stove is no longer the priority.

you quickly place a lid on the pot before spinning around within namjoon's arms. your eyes lock onto his for a moment before you press your lips against his in a fervent kiss. your arms wrap around him tightly, pulling him closer to you.

the low groan that emanates from namjoon sends a jolt through your body; with a swiftness borne from urgency, his hands deftly sweep down to find purchase on the backs of your thighs - hoisting you up with ease and enticing your legs to encircle his waist.

namjoon's steady strides carry both of you across the kitchen floor until he gently positions you atop the cool countertop situated on the opposite side of the island.

desperation flares wildly within both of you as you tangle together, hands urgently tugging and pulling, craving more skin-on-skin contact. it feels like forever since you were able to feel namjoon like this. fingers glide along your waist, caress the swell of your breasts, and trace the contours of your hips. your back arches, seeking more of his touch, as he maps every inch of you with his hands and lips.

your hands find their way to the hem of namjoon's shirt, lifting it up and over his head before discarding it onto the kitchen floor. his hands respond in kind, roughly lowering the straps of your dress and helping you shimmy out of it until it too joins the growing pile on the floor.

with heightened anticipation growing within both of you, namjoon guides hot and wet kisses fervently along your body.

his steady hands nudge you gently to lean back against the cold countertop, the stark contrast of temperatures sending a shiver up your spine.

moans of pleasure escape your lips as his passionate kisses trail increasingly closer to your sensitive core, teasingly delivering tender bites here and there as he continues his descent.

your wetness has managed to seep through the delicate fabric of your panties, prompting you to bite your lip in anticipation.

a long, lingering kiss lands on your clothed clit, causing your hips to involuntarily jolt forward, a moan escaping your parted lips. a soft chuckle follows from him at this observation.

"so sensitive," he hums in appreciation.

his lips press against the delicate bundle of nerves again, his nose playfully nudging your clit, eliciting a desperate huff from you.

growing more eager by the moment, you call out his name—your voice thick with longing and desire.

namjoon's fingers delicately dip under the lace waistband, painstakingly drawing down the fabric until finally casting it onto the floor with your dress, leaving you in just a lace bra. the soft glow radiating from the kitchen lights causes your glistening core to shimmer enticingly, drawing him ever closer.

namjoon proceeds to press one more adoring kiss upon the delicate skin lining the inside of your thigh.

gently, he guides his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, fully embracing it with his warm mouth as he expertly sucks and swirls. your moans flow without restraint, your fingers instinctively reaching to tangle themselves in his soft hair, while namjoon holds onto your hips with a steady grip, keeping you in place.

his position between your thighs grants him a front-row seat to the most stunning view of your face — the adorable way your features scrunch up and the parted lips emitting those sweet sounds he adores so much.

he plunges a finger inside of you, watching as your eyes flutter close and a drawn-out moan escapes from your lips.

he lifts his head, with traces of your arousal on his chin and nose. his voice floats up to tease you even more, "feels good, doesn't it?"

it's a question that doesn't really need an answer; it's clear just by looking at you. however, he asks it anyway – perhaps to coax a response from you – or simply to hear you say it.

biting your lip to suppress further cries of delight, you can only nod eagerly in response. a slight frown forms on namjoon's face; he wants to hear you say it.

"say it," he insists softly but firmly. the sensation overwhelms you as he adds another finger, stretching and filling you completely.

you can feel tears well up in your eyes as waves of pure pleasure course through every nerve ending and surge like distant tides toward their unrelenting climax.

clutching onto namjoon's hair and grinding your hips against his mouth, you manage to nod eagerly and stutter out through gasps and moans, "y-yes, baby. oh, god, it feels s-… so good."

namjoon smiles affectionately at your submission; pleased by your response.

"good girl," he murmurs softly before returning to his fervent actions.

his mouth dives between your thighs again — working as if he were a starving man finally eating for the first time in weeks. his fingers move skillfully inside you, delicately curving and thrusting while his lips and tongue work in sync, lapping at your sensitive clit with perfectly timed flicks and gentle suction.

the sensation becomes all-encompassing as your body finally succumbs to the intensity of the orgasm that rips through you, the tremors and shivers rippling through your body and leaving you gasping for breath.

namjoon gradually eases the pace of his movements.

he releases a soft hum of satisfaction as he tenderly cleans you up with feathery licks at your slit, each gentle touch causing you to whimper from the lingering oversensitivity.

slowly raising his head from between your thighs, namjoon peppers tender kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. his lips continue upward until they reach your abdomen, where he plants more sweet kisses. then, with a gentle hold on your arms, he helps you sit up on the countertop.

you eagerly wrap your legs around his waist, simultaneously drawing his face to yours with your hands as you reel him in for a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. your tongue ventures into his welcoming mouth, keen on tasting yourself on his lips.

he wraps his strong arms around you, his hands making their way up to tangle in your hair. with a gentle tug, he pulls your head back slightly, causing a moan to escape your lips as he leaves a trail of soft kisses along your neck. he applies a little pressure, causing your head to tilt back as you sigh in delight.

suddenly and without warning, namjoon firmly grips your thighs and slides you off the counter. he hoists you up, cradling your naked body against his waist and carries you with long strides toward the bedroom.

"wait! wait, my wine!" you exclaim with a giggle.

namjoon pulls back slightly and chuckles in disbelief, "honey, can't it wait?" you pout playfully at him and he lets out a mock sigh of exasperation before turning back towards the kitchen island.

careful not to drop you, he retraces his steps to the other side of the kitchen island so that you can reach for your wine glass.

both of you laugh as namjoon turns back around to his bedroom and nearly sprints down the hallway, narrowly avoiding spilling your drink on the floor or bumping into any furniture.

upon reaching the bedroom door, he gently sets you down on the bed as you lounge back.

you're holding onto your half-full wine glass, and you prop yourself up on your elbow, taking in the sight of namjoon as he eagerly unbuckles his belt.

he slides down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion, his throbbing length slapping against his abdomen.

as you watch him, you hold onto the wine glass in one hand while using the other to unclasp your bra.

you toss the discarded lingerie onto the floor and watch as namjoon's eyes follow its descent before locking onto you once more.

he moves forward on sturdy legs, his knees finally meeting the soft mattress as he positions himself over you. his fingers find the rim of your glass, plucking it from your hand as he chuckles softly, "i've definitely earned some of this."

with that, he drains the remaining liquid in two large gulps before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and setting the glass down on the nearby nightstand.

leaning back towards you, namjoon braces himself with both hands on either side of your body as he inches closer to you, gently trapping you beneath him.

his hand gently brushes over your body before landing on your breast. his mouth follows the path established by his hands; landing on a nipple and taking it between his lips, drawing out a mixture of pleasure and restrained moans from deep within you. your hands entangle in his hair as your hips instinctively press up against him in search of friction, feeling a familiar heat begin to pool between your legs again.

namjoon presses his lips fervently against yours, enveloping you in a passionate kiss full of heat and the intoxicating taste of wine.

your mouths open and close, nibble and devour. the space between your lips and his is briefly empty as namjoon pulls away, only to widen as your gaze shifts downwards.

with hesitation slipping away like sand through fingers, you reach out to take him in your grasp, coating your fingers with the pre-cum already gathering at the tip before you start stroking ever so gently. his forehead comes to rest against yours as he allows a low moan to escape his lips, his hips subtly shifting in response to your touch.

foreheads touching and breath mingling, you suggest, "let me suck you off."

caught off guard by the proposal, he stammers out a refusal.

"n-no," namjoon protests, shaking his head, his breath hot on your skin. "i won't last."

"well, that's the point, isn't it?" determined to tease him further, you tighten your grip and intentionally slow down your strokes on his engorged cock. namjoon's breath catches in his throat as his large hand envelops yours to cease your movement.

and in a sudden burst of energy, he skillfully repositions you on the bed. your legs are bent, and your hips are lifted, while your face presses gently into the soft pillow. a delightful gasp escapes your lips as your cheek comes in contact with the plush cushion, and you're intensely aware of the warmth growing between your legs as it begins to trail down your thighs.

namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him, letting out a contented exhale at the view of your body perfectly positioned. an alluring flush washes over you; fully aware you must look every bit like a porn star, since you had carefully prepared for this moment knowing namjoon would be home early. but you didn't expect to find yourself so eagerly sprawled out on his bed before dinner.

his fingers gently explore the globes of your ass before finding their way to your slick folds below. with the pads of his fingers, he reaches under you to tease your clit with deliberate motions, drawing a moan from deep within you as it's muffled by the pillow.

"god, baby… how can you be this wet already?" he marvels, a surprised chuckle arising from him.

you whimper in response, the pillows clenched tightly within your grip. "please, namjoon," comes the desperate plea from between clenched teeth. "i've been waiting for this all day."

namjoon gently leans over you, planting your bare back with dozens of tiny kisses, traversing a path along your spine. as his lips trail upward towards your earlobe, his warm breath tickles your ear as he whispers, "turn your head to the left."

following his instruction, your eyes meet the reflection of both you and namjoon in a strategically placed mirror.

you take in the ravenous image of yourself: wide-eyed and framed by tousled hair resting on soft pillows, your back curved and breasts firmly pressed against the mattress beneath you.

"keep those beautiful eyes on the mirror."

with bated breath, you watch as he positions himself at your entrance, the head of his throbbing cock teasingly grazing your slick folds.

as he slowly pushes inside you, a sharp gasp escapes your lips, your senses overwhelmed by the exquisite sensation of him stretching you open, filling you inch by inch, causing you to instinctively clench around the delicious intrusion.

"think you can do that for me, baby?" he teases, his voice a velvet rasp, as he buries himself deeper.

you nod eagerly in response, unable—or perhaps unwilling— to look away as his fingers entwine themselves within yours.

"pretty baby," he coos, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "already so fucked she can’t speak."

your breath catches in your throat, and you almost struggle to keep your eyes open – it feels like blissful exhaustion is starting to set in.

you can feel his cock drag out, teasing you with a fleeting emptiness, before he slams back in with a force that leaves you gasping for breath.

stray strands of hair cling to your damp skin as droplets of sweat escape from under you. it's almost shameful how wanton you appear—your lips parting as droplets of saliva threaten to dribble out with each labored breath.

"please," you manage to whisper between breaths, "harder."

without hesitation, his grip on your hands tighten as he quickens his pace and intensity at once.

with every forceful motion back and forth, the headboard rocks vigorously against the wall; probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear at this point.

“o-oh my god,” you let out a shuddering gasp through another moan, beginning to move your hips back to meet namjoon's rhythm. "i'm going to… i'm going to cum again," you stammer breathlessly.

you can feel his control slipping, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate, mirroring the frenzy building within you. his hands clamp onto your hips, holding you tightly - so tight that you're certain there will be marks later.

"inside, namjoon. come inside!" you mewl through muffled sobs into the sheets.

namjoon's movements falter, eyes widening from above at your request. you can tell he's more than willing to give you what you want.

"f-fuck, baby. inside? are… you sure?"

"i need it! please," you beg through gasping breaths, tears now starting to gather at the corners of your eyes.

he curses through gritted teeth under his breath and moans in response, tightening his grip on your hips.

unable to restrain yourself any longer, a sob escapes your lips as the climax rushes through you like a crashing wave of rapture.

this time feels even more intense than before, moaning and gasping uncontrollably as your inner walls clench tightly around namjoon's pulsating cock, coating it with your warm, slick arousal.

it's not long before namjoon's thrusts become erratic; eventually his hips still as he releases himself inside of you, repeating your name like a mantra while feeling his cock pulse deep inside of you.

as his frenzied movements gradually slow and your knees slightly give out, namjoon collapses on top of your back - still buried deep inside you.

you can feel his breath on your skin as it comes in steady gasps trying to catch up with his racing heart. he shifts, letting his hands come to rest on both sides of your body as he supports his exhausted weight.

a satisfied sigh escapes your lips as you feel the warm trickle of his cum escape your core, moistening the sheets beneath you.

your gaze remains fixed on the mirror to your left, allowing you a clear view of your naked body cushioned by plush pillows and namjoon's long, fit frame sprawled protectively across your own.

his hair is adorably disheveled, slightly obscuring his eyes. as your eyes lock with his through the reflection in the mirror, a slow smile stretches across his face.

with a nonchalant flick of his fingers, he brushes his hair out of his eyes before offering you a flirtatious wink, causing giggles to bubble up from both of you. the otherwise quiet room is dimly lit and filled only with the sound of your shared breathing.

raising himself onto one elbow, he tenderly kisses the back of your head before murmuring, "hang on; i'll be back."

he carefully slides out of you, eliciting a slight wince from you at the sudden sensation of emptiness. adjusting your position on the bed, you lean onto your side and wait for him to return.

moments later, namjoon reappears with a damp towel draped over one arm, a water bottle in hand, and an open bag of his favorite snack tucked between his teeth.

naked and unabashed, he sets down the water on the nightstand and sits beside you on the bed.

wordlessly, he offers you the bag; with a smile, you accept it and pop a chip into your mouth.

intently, he watches your enjoyment with an affectionate half-dimpled smile, pressing a tender kiss to your knee while you settle comfortably.

namjoon adjusts his position and gently taps the side of your leg as a signal for you to open them. with the warm damp cloth in hand, his muscles flex as he carefully cleans you up; the warmth of the fabric elicits a sigh of contentment from you.

deciding to break the comfortable silence, you ask with slight hesitation, "so… how was your day today?"

deep down, you already knew the answer..

the truth is: you knew namjoon was having a hard time at work lately.

you meant to bring it up sooner, really. but you didn't know how to do it without coming across as intrusive or nosy.

after all, namjoon gets enough scrutiny in his life as a musician; the last thing you wanted to do was add to that by being a nagging girlfriend.

at first, you noticed he was coming home from work later than usual. this made you somewhat apprehensive at first – you didn't want to jump to any conclusions about what he might be doing instead of working – but he'd never given you any reason to doubt him. you trusted him.

you also noticed a lot of the times he appeared restless during the rare periods he was at home, often times incoherently mumbling in his sleep or tapping his foot nervously at the table as he stared blankly off into space.

one night, at around 3am, you instinctively reached out to namjoon's side of the bed only to find it empty.

sitting up in the dark, your heart raced frantically trying to come up with an idea as to where the hell he was at this hour.

quietly slipping out of the bedroom and into the hallway, you were moments away from imagining the worst when your eyes caught a faint glow emanating from under the door of his home studio.

pressing your ear to the door, you could just make out the gentle hum of music coming from within. he was still working.

despite all of this, you chose to keep your concerns to yourself for a while longer. but after nine days of hardly seeing him, you knew that eventually, the conversation had to happen.

"it was good," namjoon answers softly, not meeting your eyes as he finishes wiping you off.

he stands up, disposing of the used cloth in a nearby laundry hamper.

"okay," you say gently, "now give me the real answer."

you watch him closely from your comfortable position in bed as he opens a nearby closet door with a quiet sigh.

he reaches up to take out a stack of fresh, neatly folded sheets and carefully closes the door behind him.

as namjoon walks back to the bed, his eyes finally meet yours, and he stands at the foot of the bed with the sheets still cradled in his arms.

"i don't know what you mean," he says defensively.

you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance as you huff, "okay. well, i'm not moving until you tell me."

namjoon's brow furrows in concern for a moment before he tries to change the subject. "do you need help going to the bathr—" he begins, but you cut him off with a quick "nope" and a slow shake of your head, crossing your arms firmly over your chest.

he exhales, glancing up at the ceiling before setting the clean sheets down at the foot of the bed. sitting next to you, he gently places a comforting hand on your leg.

you give him a moment as he traces soft circles on your skin, his eyes searching for the right words to say.

"i'm sorry," he finally begins. your body stiffens, caught off guard by his response. you really weren't expecting an apology.

"i haven't been a very good boyfriend lately," he admits, his smile strained and sadness evident in his eyes.

"and none of that is your fault. i'm sorry," he repeats, his gaze lowering in shame.

blinking back a sudden wave of tears, you sit up slightly and cover his large hand with yours, weaving your fingers together.

"namjoon, what on earth are you talking about?"

he looks up at you, mouth open to respond before you interrupt, "you're such a good boyfriend. the best, actually. i've just been worried about you lately. i can tell you've been pushing yourself.”

namjoon looks down at your hands and then back up into your eyes. you can almost see the gears turning in his head.

"i want to be here for you when things get tough. we should be able to talk about anything together."

a silent beat passes before he nods in agreement, squeezing your hand gently.

he then lifts your entwined fingers up to his lips and plants a tender kiss to your knuckle. "yeah," he breathes out, "it's been really hard. and you're…"

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as he searches for the right words once more.

"you're so normal. you make me feel normal, even when my life is anything but. it's so complicated already; i just don't want to burden you with that."

his voice wavers slightly as he swallows, avoiding eye contact.

"joon," you say softly, trying to make him look at you again. "you could never be a burden to me. that's something you should never worry about."

as his eyes finally meet yours, they glisten with an array of emotions—appreciation, love, and relief all present.

he gazes at you adoringly and nods in response, uttering a soft "okay."

unable to resist the urge any longer, you lean forward and cup his face tenderly with your hands, planting a sweet, delicate peck right on his lips. the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips is soothing, even though your heart races within your chest.

you start to pull away but feel namjoon's strong hands dart up to grab your face as he draws you back into a deeper, more passionate kiss, both of you giggling against each other's mouths.

your hands slide up to namjoon's neck and weave themselves into his thick hair, nails softly grazing his scalp with just the right amount of force to elicit a delightful sigh.

sensing an invitation, his tongue tentatively ventures out to glide alongside yours, mingling the warmth between you.

namjoon momentarily adjusts his teeth on your bottom lip, gently sinking down on your bottom lip before releasing it with a subtle pop and eliciting an involuntary moan from deep within your throat.

you sense him shifting his position on the bed, eventually hovering over you as if preparing to dominate you but breaking the kiss instead.

without warning, namjoon wraps one arm around your lower back while grabbing your thighs with his other hand. in a swift upward motion, he lifts and hoists your naked body on his waist, coaxing you to wrap your legs around him for support.

you gasp, instinctively holding on tighter, feeling the thrill mingle with fear as you wrap your arms tightly around his torso.

"namjoon!" you exclaim mid-laughter, feeling both exhilarated and slightly turned on at being tossed around so effortlessly.

his strong hands now shift from the back of your thighs to support you by cupping the curves of your ass.

with bold strides and a gleeful grin, he carries you like this toward the bathroom, depositing you gently onto the cool surface of the countertop.

standing between your parted thighs, he leans in close again— this time offering you a burning, fervent kiss that is so hot and heavy, quickly rendering you dizzy as butterflies wildly flutter within your stomach.

eventually namjoon pulls back to examine your face, bringing his thumb up to gently caress your swollen bottom lip as a cheeky grin threatens to break through his solemn demeanor.

his eyes twinkle mischievously, reflecting the lustful haze that clouds your vision.

"shower?"

#bts fanfiction #bts imagine #bts x reader #namjoon imagine #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #kpop imagines #bts smut

904 notes · View notes

wildestdreamsblog · 1 year

Note

can we get amnesia trope with namjoon pleaseee?

Never Forget You

Pairing: Mafia!Kim Namjoon x Reader

Warnings: Soft Yandere, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

3000 celebration

“Do I know you?”

You visibly stiffened when you heard his deep voice. You tried to calm your heart that was beating too fast, tried to breathe slowly. But how could you pretend like nothing was happening when Kim Namjoon was literally standing in front of you? When it had been almost a year since you last saw him?

When it had been eight months since you left him?

When it had been eight months since you last saw him bruised and bloodied?

You heard him chuckled softly when a moment passed and you still didn’t acknowledge him. You were terrified. You knew nothing was simple with him. You knew nothing was uncomplicated when it came to you and him… and Namjoon suddenly appearing in front of you made you lose all the progress you made.

You thought you had escaped him. Yet now, he was standing in front of you.

Suddenly, you were back to being that naive girl who loved him too much.

“I’m sorry if I scared you. It’s just that…you looked familiar,” Namjoon trailed off when you finally looked up at his tall form. The first thing you noticed was the scar on the side of his forehead, a clear and bitter reminder of how the two of you ended on what seemed like lives ago. The second thing you noticed was the color of his hair. The old Namjoon would never dare color his hair, but the man in front of you was spontaneous enough to do so.

The last thing you noticed about him was his eyes- they were no longer angry. His eyes looked as angelic as the first time you met him. Kim Namjoon looked at peace.

And so, you lied.

You lied because he deserved the peace and you were terrified.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know you.”

The second time you crossed paths with him again was after two months. You decided to move again the very next day that you saw him. You were certain you weren’t safe, that you needed distance from him for your sanity and his peace. However, destiny seemed to laugh at your efforts.

You were walking, your eyes focused on the scenery on your way to work when you felt someone crashed into you, cold liquid poured on your white shirt. The dark contrast of coffee against your shirt was enough to make you lose your composure. You were about to unleash hell on the assailant when you saw who it was.

However, his face shut you up. Of course it was him. Again.

“I’m so sorry!” Kim Namjoon exclaimed in a horrified voice, his mouth focused on your wet shirt and the see-through brassiere that you snapped your fingers in front of him.

“Eyes up here, Namjoon!”

He looked at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck when he realized what you said…when he realized what you called him. Suddenly, he lost the apologetic look on his face, his eyes widened with curiosity and suspicion.

“What did you just call me?” He asked in a deep voice. He tilted his head to the side, his mannerism even before the accident. You hated how you still knew about this. You so badly wanted to erase him from your thoughts.

In fact, it should have been you who lost the memories. In that way, you would be able to escape his memories: the good and the bad.

You stepped back when he walked closer to you. You were glad that this happened in public. You wouldn’t be this glad, though, if this happened eight months ago. If this happened eight months ago, Namjoon would just simply take what he wanted regardless of the consequences.

“You called me Namjoon,” he stated, his eyes taking you in. He looked lethal despite the changes in him. For heaven’s sake, the old him wouldn’t be caught wearing a tote bag like he did now. The old him wouldn’t even dare wear whatever he color of clothes he was wearing right now.

You opted to look at his chest rather than his eyes, which he found rather unacceptable. You gulped when you felt his finger tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “Do you know me, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. The one he used to call you so lovingly…yet sometimes he did so mockingly. You were shaking when you met his curious eyes.

He chuckled without any emotions when moment passed and you didn’t confirm nor deny. “Was I a bad person that you would lie to me about knowing me?”

He wasn’t. Until love or rather, until obsession swallowed him whole.

For the second time, and what probably was the last time, Kim Namjoon let you go. The tears that were pooling in your eyes were enough for him to gently let you walked away from him.

“Are you going to be honest now?” He asked his father who was sitting in front of him as though he was the king himself. In a way, he was. They sat on top of the hierarchy in the underworld, and Kim Namjoon before the accident was the King when his father stepped down. He was the king, yet he couldn’t lead right now because of his memories.

They said he was chasing after someone when it happened.

They said the person wasn’t important and that the person was now gone.

The doctor was confident that he would remember everything in due time, which was fine to him. Really. It was fine. However, he felt a constant stabbing pain in his heart. He felt incomplete. He felt as though his world lost its balance.

Something was missing.

Someone was missing.

Because if not, how could he explain the dreams that both haunted and enchanted him each night? How could he explain the scenes similar to that of a movie whenever he closed his eyes of a girl who loved him?

Someone loved him.

And he was desperate to remember her, to get her back in his arms where she obviously belonged. He was simply restless.

“What are you talking about, son?”

Gently, he laid his palm on the wooden table. He leaned in, his calmness a mask to his insanity. Namjoon was always calm, yet his calmness was lethal. His father knew about this. Most especially, you knew about this. “Don’t lie to me,” he whispered in his deep voice. “Who was I chasing that night, father?”

His father thought he deserved the truth, yet he didn’t want to him to know. His son had always been levelheaded, yet when it came to you, his ever-loving sanity vanished. Personally, he thought it was a blessing in disguise when he forgot about you.

He should’ve known, Namjoon would never just let go. His obsession was stronger than the clean state of his memories. He recognized that obsession because he too was once obsessed with Namjoon’s mother. And it was his love that drove her away.

He didn’t want it to happen to Namjoon.

Yet, it still did. He drove you away.

“And this time, please don’t lie to me.”

He regarded him with his eyes, “You were chasing your fiancé that night.”

Three months passed, and you hadn’t seen him since then. You moved once again, living peacefully. Or so you thought.

It had been thirteen months since you escaped from him. The car chase was something you would never want to relive, yet you could remember it clear as day. His love suffocated you. What was once a sweet relationship turned sour when he let the darkness won. He terrified you. His love was obsessive, his embrace became tighter, his kisses became more desperate the more he felt you pulling away. But didn’t he realize you pulled away because he stopped being the Namjoon you fell in love with?

And when you finally discovered how deep his obsession was, how people suddenly disappeared when he felt they were a threat, you had the courage to leave him. But he didn’t take it easy. Of course, he didn’t. When he found your ring on his bedside table, he lost it.

And that was how the car chase happened. That was how he lost you.

You turned your head to look in front of you when you heard someone sat. You thought that finally, your date your coworker set you up with finally arrived. But instead of him, Kim Namjoon was there.

He sat down comfortably, his eyes focused on the menu. And you knew, you just knew that he was back. His hair was dark once again. Gone was the tote bag and simplicity in his clothes. Now, he was sporting the usual suit you knew he favored.

It scared you that he hadn’t once looked up at you. He only did so when he placed his order, and you noticed he ordered for two. He ordered your favorite.

He remembered now.

“W-what are you doing here?” Your voice trembled as you took him in.

“You’re here, sweetheart. Where else would I be?” He asked in a mocking voice, his eyes finally on yours as he took you in.

Thirteen months you ran.

Thirteen months he lived without you.

He had enough.

“What did you do to him…”

He leaned in, his head tilted to the side. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We only…talked.”

“Don’t lie to me!” You hissed, anger getting the best of you. “What. Did. You. Do?”

Suddenly, the restaurant was emptied by men wearing dark suits. And then they dragged the bloodied man inside. You were crying, you didn’t realize until Namjoon wiped your tears. He hated seeing you cry. It was his weakness.

Perhaps, he loved you too much.

“Shh,” he comforted you, standing up to kneel beside you. He looked into your eyes with overflowing love, with too much love that it drowned you. “Nothing will happen to him. I promise you.”

He kept his promises, always.

After all, he promised you that he would never leave you. And beyond his memory loss, he never left you. Namjoon kept on coming back.

“If you marry me now, nothing would happen to him.”

You looked at his sincere eyes. He looked worried over your state. “Do you promise?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I promise.”

That night, he slipped back the ring you left. That night, Kim Namjoon promised that he would love you forever.

That night, he promised to himself that he would never let you escape again…and that he would never forget you again.

#3000 celebration #kim namjoon fic #yandere kim namjoon #yandere namjoon #bts fic #bts yandere #kim namjoon x you #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x y/n #yandere kim namjoon x you

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soraviie · 1 year

Text

coming home tired.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: fluff! (maybe some angst you all know how it is)

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ lmao I don't like this. Anyway, Ice Age 1 and 2 absolutely peak entertainment

NAMJOON | The second the slippers are on your feet, you trudge to the bed and toss yourself face first into the mattress. With a bit of luck, you could suffocate yourself like this. A low whistle rises from up behind you and squinting with one eye open, you spot a sympathetic looking Namjoon standing in the doorway.

“That bad, huh?” he drawls and you groan at the mere mention of it.

“Don’t even remind me,” you plop your face back into a pillow where your voice can only barely be heard as a muffled whisper. “I’m seriously thinking of quitting.”

“You say that all the time,” he rolls his eyes to which you take some offence. With narrowed stare, you glare back at him, cringing at how palpable the sweat on your back is.

“You’re supposed to be my boyfriend-”

“Supposed to be,” Namjoon scoffs just as if not more offended. “I am your boyfriend.”

“And boyfriends are supposed to be comforting when their partners are feeling down,” you scorned. “Not be snide. I swear you treat me as bad as Monie. We should both leave.”

“I treat you both well!” the volume of Namjoon's voice suddenly rises and you cannot help but wince as it hits against the pounding baseline of an oncoming migraine. Immediately, he forces his voice to a much quieter tone, a sound no more than a vague whisper whilst an indisputable shade of concern appearing in his eyes.

“Is it that bad? Do you need to go on a sick leave?”

“No, no,” you wave him off, crawling off the bed with no meagre amount of difficulty. It wouldn’t exactly be the first time when “after a bit” has grown to be you drooling in deep sleep on the pillow, still fully dressed only to then wake up at 2 am incredibly hungry. “I’m just a bit tired, that's all.”

“You be careful, alright?”

Namjoon’s face still has a sort of worried film to it as though he’s caught between two possible options of how to make everything better and knowing him, he probably was.

“Do you want me to read to you?”

“You hate it.”

“But I like you so…”

You try not to, however, a small smile still stubbornly worms its place onto your lips and it’s soon echoed on Namjoon's own expression. He outstretches his hand and it isn't long before you grasp it.

“Come on,” he throws his head towards that god awful hellscape of a seat that you detest so much but had no heart to tell as Namjoon had grown fond of it. “Let’s get your mind off things.”

Though there is a wolf-like whistle as you change out of the work clothes for which he gets a shirt thrown into his face, largely the evening is spent in civil spirits.

“How about we eat before?”

Instantly, your blood curdles and from where you’re perched on the end of the grey sofa, you throw Namjoon a deeply, deeply anxious glance. He doesn’t miss it and after once again rolling his eyes because damned if Kim Namjoon wasn’t a passive aggressive bastard, he wraps a precarious hand over your shoulders and grumbles —

“I didn’t cook anything myself. Don’t worry.”

“Thank god,” you sigh and get pinched in the side.

Some would say it’s simple, almost boring but time with Namjoon, wanted or not, fair or unfair, was limited. Moments like these — with your back pressed against his side as you curl up onto the sofa, a leftover pizza laying in front was a luxury. He was rarely if ever at home and it seems that even he gathers as much as his lips seek out his beloved spot on the side of your temple and press a feathery kiss. Simple — yes but precious all the same and you couldn’t thank him enough for just being here.

“Now where were we…” you mutter to yourself, haphazardly sorting through the pile of books laid like a fallout rubble on every surface nearby. Taking advantage of the bared skin of your back, the tips of his fingers softly graze along your spine, mutely inviting you to return into his hold.

"Why do you check out so many books if you never read them?" he grumbles.

"Why would I read them if I can have you do that for me?"

"Tyrant."

"I know you are but what am I?"

The sheer volume of his exasperated sigh is almost enough to wipe your tired state clean off.

"Behave," Namjoon warns lowly, letting his head fall back on the headrest. "Otherwise, I'll just put you to bed."

You give him an angelic smile but comply, offering the book of choice only to frown when he is too eager to grasp it. There's even a twinkle to his eye.

“A cliche of story,” you grouse underneath your breath, mocking the same words Namjoon had said after forcefully reading or as he insisted “surviving” the first chapter. “My ass.”

Nonetheless, save for a few laughs, there is not much that you talk about. There’s no need to share a conversation, just the feeling of his warm skin is enough to sate the void his absence left behind. And with it, the stress slowly abates, unclenching its grip from you, sentence by sentence as Namjoon's voice cruises through the evening.

YOONGI | You don’t quite know how your jaw has not yet unhinged off your face, stretched to its absolute limits by the snake-like yawns but you’re thankful for it anyhow. Another one breaks out the second you’re over the threshold and that is what greets Yoongi instead of a smile or a single, coherent greeting.

“You’re home early,” you point out, withering out quickly. So much so for reading a book or watching a movie, or tackling any amount of apparently never-ending chores.

“Yeah,” he shrugs off, seemingly unconcerned but those slanted, all too observant eyes track the slope of your tired back — the way you collapse into yourself, unable to fully stand neither still nor straight — and with it his lips purse into a thin, displeased line.

“I’m fine Yoon, don’t worry about it,” you call out with a shake of the hand. You don’t think he buys it.

“I’m sure,” he replies simply, tone aggravatingly pleasant, not a hitch, not a crumble for you to catch onto his motives. “Let’s get you into something cozier.”

Peeling off the layers of those impersonal, pretentious clothes makes you cringe. The sweat that had been subtly building under the material is sticky and for a second you almost wish Yoongi would be at the studio like usual. Not much of a looker — sweaty and as appealing as worm splattered underneath the car’s wheel.

“Cute,” you hear a mutter behind you and turning around, you find Yoongi standing before you, chin in hands, almost appraising you the way an art critic would a rare painting.

“I’m not cute right now,” you grouse. Yoongi was never one to sugar coat things, so why begin now?

“You’ll always be cute.”

There is an audible offence in his tone and something in it makes you wanna tease him and almost begrudgingly you have to admit that yet again his master plans proved to be fruitful — the accumulated tension was slowly dissolving in the air around you.

“Even if I’m 90 and all my teeth are gone?”

“Well then I’ll be just as old and we can expire together.”

You shake your head with a barely suppressed smile and suddenly the home feels that much warmer. Not just four walls with a buzzing fridge, droning of the vapid TV and somewhat unsettling emptiness but an actual home.

“Always the romantic Yoon.”

“I drew you a bath,” he throws his head towards the closed bathroom doors. “Get in.”

There’s not a space left in that statement for you to argue and thinking about it, you didn’t want to. The water is in perfect temperature, betraying the amount of time you’ve been together and seeing the purple foam sitting atop of the scented waterline as candles laid around hobbled on the nearby surfaces, tears rush to your eyes.

Sometimes it was good to cry, be it out of joy, sadness or just as a way to release things and while for some it might seem bizarre to hear your cries in the bath, even somewhat disconcerting but Yoongi knew better and he knew when to simply give you space.

By the time you get out of the bath, pruned almost to the bone, your head feels hazy — emptier but soft at the edges. The second you see Yoongi setting up the table, you nuzzle into him, practically melting against his frame. For a second he freezes, out of the corner of the eye you glimpse how his features widen in a shock-stricken expression but once the moment inevitably passes, he plays it cool, pretending that there isn’t a pink blush nestling prettily on top of his cheekbones.

“My, my, you really are tired,” he calls out, gingerly prying your hands away, largely to sit you in the nearby chair. Yet another sign of the sheer exposure you've had with each other over the years — when you clung, you clung, more than once lazing atop of Yoongi as though he was your own personal body pillow. He put up with it like he did with most of you — possessing endless kindness and patience.

"Some soup, nothing fancy," he explains, sliding a spoon your way. "It'll fill you up but won't give indigestion."

"Thank you. You're the best."

He doesn't respond to the compliment with anything credible, just something whined softly through a pout. The dinner passes by in a blur as you try to listen to Yoongi's day. The guilt gnaws with sharpened teeth - at your own inability to focus on what he's saying -but the haze spindles its spidery web too tight around your body and quickly enough, you sink into the mattresses absolutely boneless.

"This just needs one thing," you hear Yoongi muttering overhead and after a beat during which you might as well have fallen into some form of micro sleep, he returns back, paddling quietly across the plush carpet carrying none other than an extremely sleepy and confused Min Holly. The poodle sniffs slightly, veering as he suddenly finds himself put on the bed but then simply decides to snuggle up the pillow next to you — an arrangement that often resulted in Yoongi putting up a fuss over being exiled from his own bed. Though tonight there is no tantrum and quietly you dream of soft hands caressing your head before inviting dark embraces you whole.

JIN | "So you don't want to come out?"

The blanket shakes in a definitive no, pulling from him a deep, deep sigh. "Alright but just text if you need me."

For a second, more so out of instinct than anything, he thinks of leaning down, brushing away this ridiculous blanket you've cocooned yourself in and planting a kiss on your forehead - like he always does- but something in the way you're so obstinately clinging to it stops him and instead he lays his lips atop of it, allowing you to hide away from the world. When the ends of your ears perk at the sound of the closing doors, you slowly push the blanket onto the floor, gulping down large breaths of fresh air.

Jin was nice, you liked Jin, obviously as you lived together, but sometimes…sometimes a person just needed to be on their own. The way you move throughout the house is largely mindless. Something is playing in the background, what - you don't know. You don't put much focus on what passes between your hands - the vacuum, the window cleaner — it's just a motion. A motion required so that the tension doesn't flay you whole. It's not like you particularly want to do so — the lower back pain surely is a sign you don't want to but it is needed. The nagging thoughts of something being not done in the house will just nag you on and coupled with the stress from work, you didn't put it past your body to become the first person on the planet whose head popped from their shoulders and become airborne.

It is when you're in the middle of battling one very annoying corner of the front entrance when Jin comes home. All too soon you hear the code pressed on the outside and you greet him as such, standing and staring like a deer in headlights with vacuum in one hand and a wet wipe in another. For a passing moment, Jin simply takes you in, a wrinkle of thorough confusion marking his face. Then as if to come to a foregone conclusion, he sighs, places the many, many takeaway boxes that tower dangerously all together in a green plastic bag on the console nearby and struts forward. You almost go in to defend yourself be it verbally or with a vacuum cleaner but he simply disregards it and places a palm right over your forehead.

“As I thought,” he mumbles solemnly. “You’re running a fever.”

Immediately you check yourself, in the hurry almost letting the vacuum hit the ground had Jin not caught it at the last second.

“No, I’m not,” you protest but deep down you've grasped that your hand is sweaty and that your head feels…heated, somehow. “I don’t want to take a sick leave!”

Jin was often an easy-going man, never a joke missing when he was around, never a moment weighing too heavily but he was still an adult and sometimes…sometimes he put his foot down.

“But you are,” he insists with a deadpan tone. Both of your hands are forcibly freed from the items in them as you’re spun around and pushed towards the bed, your socks providing no grip to fight the movement. “Better one sick day today than a whole month later. Remember November?”

“I remember November,” you huff begrudgingly. “But it’s not that bad.”

“_________,” the sound of your name falling from his mouth with not a lick of usual laughter or any form of fond exasperation rings like a cannon shot through your ears, making you shrink smaller. “You’re tired. Just rest. Everything else will fall into place.”

You grow limp under his touch and let yourself be carded back into bed, no huff, no puff. Vaguely it’s reminiscent of Jin’s own temper tantrums as he battled a cold two months ago. You’d chided him then for acting like a spoiled child with a silver spoon both in his mouth and up his ass and you know now that it was merely an act of the infamous pot calling the egregious kettle black. There is a twinkle of vindication in Jin’s eyes even if he does not say it out loud. The session of being made fun of was simply postponed due to the pitifulness of your state alas not entirely avoided.

“Now, let your boyfriend take care of you,” bright is Jin’s smile as he beams down upon you from one ear to the next but the pat on your head dours the cheesy sentiment if he even had any to begin with.

“I’m not a dog,” you gruff, wrenching his hand away but as Jin saunters away, dignified as ever, “could have fooled me” is tossed casually over his shoulder.

HOSEOK | “You don’t have any plans later in the evening?”

Because it was 6:30 of a quiet Monday morning and you had assumed that Hoseok hadn’t come home at all, given how you’d gone to sleep alone and woke up as such, the question poised from a poked-in head, partially hidden by a steam of running shower, it came as a no surprise you were scared shitless. Nursing the elbow that was so rudely slammed against the tiled wall, you replied that no, you did not have any plans.

“Great! Love you!”

The only thing you heard after were quick, running footsteps and then — silence.

“Love you too,” you muttered to the empty air. “Whatever that was.”

But Hoseok did sometimes do odd things and so as the work day reared its vicious Hydra head you forgot all about it, too submerged in the rising pile of problems.

By the time you shuffle out of the work doors, there is a deadpan expression upon your face and even more upon your soul. You’re tired and the outlook of coming back — yet again! — tomorrow makes it all the more draining. As you drudge your way down the main street there is only one dream floating almost palpable before your eyes and that is your bed. The very thought of immediately propelling yourself underneath the fluffy duvet and dozing off to a good music is a piece of private heaven you’re salivating after and all that was needed was to go home.

If only it would be that easy.

A sleek, black car rolls in front of you, so crudely that only by the last pinch of your nerves you do not curse the driver out then and there. It’s a blessing you do not as the window rolls down and you find none other than your boyfriend sitting joyfully on the other side.

“Are you abducting me, good sir?” you call out and Hoseok opens the doors from the inside, invitingly patting the seat next to him.

“Yes, now get in. This is not legal parking.”

At first, you hum happily along to the song playing on the radio. Sure, Hoseok makes a weird turn — it definitely does not belong to the usual route but maybe that was him trying to evade the congested traffic. A second one? Your hum falters but still you persist. You were still going in the correct general direction and if anything you should be grateful about being rescued from the overcrowded hell that is public transport in a rush hour. But once the third turn is taken and you no longer recognize the area, the soft happiness blossoming in your body freezes and for a fact refuses to thaw.

“Uhh…Hoseok?”

“Hmm?”

“Where are we going?”

“To the mall.”

If feasible, your brain would make a sound similar to a record being pulled under the needle of the player. And then smashed against the fucking wall.

“The mall?” you echo slowly, however Hoseok remains blissfully oblivious and smiles as your dream of bed and rotting rest shatters into unmendable pieces.

“Yeah! You’ve been working so hard! You definitely need some new gifts. Name whatever you want, I’ll get!”

Get me home, is what flashes through your mind but even thinking about it feels ungrateful of sorts. Thus, you bite your teeth into a pained smile.

“Yay,” though you try to sound enthusiastic it comes out more like a squeaking cry of a dying animal.

Having three bodyguards flickering in and out of your periphery as blinding mall lights blare overhead was not your idea of fun in the best of days but even less so after the dogshit that was work on this particular Monday.

Suddenly Hoseok shoves a string of pearls underneath your noise, with an overeager “try this!”. You oblige but something in the look does not please him and quickly the pearls are swapped for another, a tad more delicate piece.

The longer you trail after him, the more your eyes droop downward. It becomes too difficult to even properly focus on walking let alone on what Hoseok is saying. Covertly, you try to slump against him while on the escalator and once more Hoseok misinterprets this as an expression of affection, cooing at it.

You do not have the heart to tell him you were seconds away from crawling into the bathroom and sleeping there.

“Which shoes do you like better? These ones or these ones?”

Strategically, you position yourself on the plush albeit hard chair of the shoe shop.

“They’re both good,” you mutter and the next time you open your eyes, a muted darkness stands before you. For a second, your heart leaps, dry spit curls up at the back of your throat but as the second passes, so does the fear. The dark slowly abates and the familiar feeling and smell of your comforter drags you back into the peace.

You’re home.

There is a vague clattering coming from the closed bedroom doors and as you drop back onto the pillows with a sigh of deep relief, it stops only for someone to move closer.

As Hoseok opens the doors, he stands in them for a while wearing a gentle but knowing smile.

“If you didn’t want to go, you could have just said so.”

You screw your eyes shut, feeling the end of a headache coming back up from behind the eye sockets.

“Did you drag me back?” you groan, sinking deeper into the mattress as though it could possibly save you in any way.

“With some help,” Hoseok nods, throwing a towel to rest over his shoulder. “You were out of it.”

“I’m sorry,” you glance at him from the covers, turning your voice much more earnest. The feelings of ungratefulness cling to your chest, creating a heavy, pressing sensation. How much time really did you have with Hoseok? Hours, minutes? Versus the days that he was entrenched deep into work or worse on tour. You ought to spend every moment with him, radiating nothing but happiness but it was just…

You were just too tired.

“I really am.”

“Don’t stress about it. But really just tell me next time that you don’t want to go and would rather sleep instead. Trust me, I would understand.”

You nod along to his words, giving a mute promise though it's one he accepts.

“Besides there’s always online shopping,” he supplies lightly before his smile warps to cut a bit too deep into cheek and too devious in its hue. “And I can always spoil you in other ways.”

JIMIN | The second your aching feet drag over the warm threshold, you don’t even let Jimin finish his greeting, instead propelling yourself tiredly into his chest, self-indulgently wrapping your arms around his waist.

“What’s this?” he chuckles softly, placing one cheek upon the top of your head — you could feel the weight of his motion. It rests on you like a heavy blanket, relaxing yet not caging. “Since when are you so nice to me?”

“Oh, shut it,” you hiss meagerly, cheek still ruffling against the thin material of his grey t-shirt. “I’ve always been nice to you.”

“Debatable,” he laughs but it quickly sizzles into a low hum. “Long day?”

“Felt like it would never end.”

Dinner is eaten quickly, with you mostly scarfing down whatever is put down before you and Jimin occasionally throwing a worried glance though he chooses not to give these concerns a voice. You’re grateful for the silence — too exhausted in your own right to dwell on what should soon turn into a hazy, near non-existent memory.

The sofa underneath your back is pliant enough and slinking onto the too small decorative pillows, the same ones Jimin had sworn would be perfect as you had stood in IKEA checkout line, you feel your eyes fall downward — not slow and steady, but definitive and pointed like a crash of a rock.

Jimin’s voice floats above the cotton-candy haze that circles the ends of your eyes and maybe vaguely you catch the tail of a sentence.

“...movie?” is all you hear and deeply not caring, you nod along, still partially clinging to his arm.

“Something you like…” Jimin mutters under his breath. “The Notebook is always great.”

“I literally have never liked that movie.”

He lets his mouth open in truly horrendous offence, placing a palm over his chest as though you’ve just stabbed him with a kitchen knife.

“Blasphemy! And in my own home too!”

Imperiously, you make a grab at him, settling yourself to lay partially on his torso.

“It’s our home, you menace.”

“Ah, and there they are! So I thought you being nice earlier was suspicious.”

But even as he’s saying it, there’s a lingering presence of suppressed smile etched across his lips.

“Just play something,” you mutter, not even bothering to maintain the appearance of wakefulness.

“What about “cold eyes”?” he suggests, switching contemplatively between the select options, each one playing an annoying loud

“That’s still your favourite movie. I like “The Lighthouse”.”

As expected an immediate wrinkle of distaste curls up his nose as he regards your suggestion. Apparently taking in a noir coloured fever dream seeped in oceanic nightmares had not been his favourite way to spend an evening and though he endured it once, more thanks to his apparently endless love for you than patience, you doubted the chances of him laying his eyes on the production ever again.

“A compromise,” he suggests, by now only barely able to move as you melt into him, your tired bones demanding a rest. How could even one’s inner thigh muscles hurt you did not know but such was the reality.

“Ice age.”

“Deal.”

It’s not even five minutes into the movie that the warm colours flashing on the screen, not to mention the rub of Jimin’s fingers tenderly grazing against your scrap, lulls you into deep, exhausted sleep. Jimin doesn't wake you.

TAEHYUNG | Though the headphones squeeze on your ears in a manner that manages to somehow be both painful and itching, you pour all of your focus into the pot of soup boiling on the counter. The sensory hell that is extractor hood whirrs overhead and while you hate both the steam making everything just a touch too hot and the noise being a touch too grading, it does the trick. It completely overwhelms your mind and with it the piled up anxiety. The sudden light touch, light yes but unmistakably belonging to a human hand, forces some form of primal scream out from your throat and you’re met face to face with equally wide-eyed, equally frightened Kim Taehyung. Who is in your house.

You almost ready the ladle as a weapon of sorts but the fleeting voice of reason reminds you, he is in your home because this is the home you share.

Because you’re dating, it goes to supply and you’re thankful that it does otherwise you would have just slammed your boyfriend into the kitchen ground with the aforementioned ladle.

He attempts to speak or at least so you assume from the way his mouth moves.

“Just give me a sec!” you point at your earphones in the still lingering confusion momentarily forgetting to how to turn off the blasting music that just a second ago was mind numbing in a pleasant way but now has grown to be an auditory guillotine.

At last you manage the Bluetooth connected mess and pushing back the hair from your face, you huff, trying to sound light and miserably failing in one fell swoop.

“Why-why are you home so early?”

Taehyung quirks his head to the side and those soulful, terribly wary eyes glide over your face in suspicion.

“Was I not supposed to?”

You almost don’t stammer when answering “no”. Taehyung hums but it doesn’t feel either like a response or the final sentence in the otherwise lackluster conversation. If anything it’s a wordless noise of suspicion and you begin to sweat under its weight.

“You look like you haven’t slept a week,” he points out, not overtly trying to be accusing outright but similarly failing as well. At first your mind leaps and bounds to white lies, some smaller some bigger but as his gaze grows more expressive, more analytic you wither and simply confess like a child would after eating too much candy from a jar that was specifically left for guests.

“That’s because I haven’t.”

Taehyung nods, clearly having suspected as much.

“And I assume the reason why you were unpleasantly surprised by my arrival is that like any other night, you wanted to make something quick, then sit yourself in front of three devices all playing different things and then letting yourself rot in an unmade bed?”

You twiddle with your thumbs.

“Yes. Are you mad?”

He looks mad, however because this was Taehyung the next second his face blooms with pity and you find yourself surrounded by two arms and what feels like a cashmere sweater.

“Oh my baby.”

The beginnings of what feels like straying tears rush forward but still for now you force them down. Disconnecting, for the first time you look Taehyung properly over. What initially seemed like nothing but put-together pillars of stability when compared to your crumbling statue ebbs away and in the muted light of the kitchen you see. The downturned corners of his mouth, the eye bags obstinately clinging to his face, the hair that hangs over said eyes, clearly unkempt, obviously trying to hide something he deemed too personal to share with the rest of the world.

Other than you that is.

Once again it rips out of you without much consent or thorough planning of the brain:

“You’re tired.”

He laughs but the sound, alike the atmosphere, falls strained.

“Yeah I am. Can’t sleep much without you.”

The soft ends of his voice, clipping into an exhausted drawl, makes your heart bleed both in pink and red.

“I’ve been worried about you,” he adds with a deep sigh. “And it seems not entirely without reason.”

“It’ll be alright,” you try to brush off but without knowing whom you tried to convince more — Taehyung or indeed yourself. He doesn’t much say of anything, merely gives one truly solemn nod and clutches your hand in his grip — ladle and all.

JUNGKOOK | The second you feel the familiar walls of your home swallow you whole, the full effect of a thoroughly draining day kicks you in the chest. You feel its weight knead at your muscles, turning every strain of it into an over-taut strings of deepened ache. You breathe a weary, albeit content sigh as one sweaty article of clothing is shed after the next. It’s a quiet retaliation — to toss them into the hamper for laundry tomorrow. Thank god for your laundry fairy.

You hear someone at the door and momentarily the ache disappears in the surge of sheer adrenaline but as the familiar sounds of dog’s nails scraping against the floor reach your ears, you relax once more.

“Babe?” comes an inquiring voice just seconds before Bam rounds the corner, gleefully wagging his tail at your presence.

“You’re wet,” you complain but since much like Jungkook, it was impossible to be mad at him, all the dog hears is the pleased sound of your voice so without any inhibitions whatsoever, he noses at your shin, leaking rainwater onto the beige bedroom carpet. Jungkook pokes one head in and you’re not surprised to see that he’s much in the same state.

“And you’re wet as well,” you point out, monotonous, as he shrugs in response.

“Forgot to take my umbrella.”

You don’t chide him, having honestly no strength to do so. Instead, you plop down onto the bed, stifling another monstrous yawn, not entirely missing the faint wrinkle of concern carving its way in the space between Jungkook’s eyebrows but choosing to not remark upon it. He was already too worried these last few weeks. Still Jungkook remains Jungkook and not a second after, from his spot in the doorway comes gentle but somewhat of a sternly voiced question.

“Are you okay? You look…I’m sorry tired is not the word. Drained of your very soul.”

You offer him a mirthless laugh, running a palm over your face.

“Is it that obvious?” you try to joke but the hint of frailty betrays you. Its note might be faint but for Jungkook with his musical pitch, its laid out bare on a desolate cliff. He doesn’t speak but there’s no need to. His face says it all.

“It’s just I’ve never not…known things,” you admit, a sense of frustration immediately clutching at your chest. “I’ve always been quick to adapt. A month, two months tops and I’d be like a fish in water but…” the end of the sentence trails off into a frustrated sigh.

“It’s not your fault they’re not training you properly,” he objects but even so remembers to be quiet. There was no use in shouting and that was the rule you both agreed upon.

“I know it’s not my fault,” you mumble underneath your nose but even you yourself can hear the disheartened nature of that statement. For long dragging stretches of time, you simply stare at Bam, reaching out to pat him ever so slightly.

“I’m just…tired, Koo,” at last you state, the final walls breaking down in one, finite statement.

“I get it,” he echoes somberly, the shared faraway glint in both of your eyes reminding you both of the many, many tired late evening, early mornings and the middle of the nights. Jungkook rouses himself out the soured memory lane first. He shakes his head and paddles over, sitting on the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“You want a shoulder massage?” he offers and as his touch settles upon your skin, you wince, prompting a hissing curse from his lips.

“It’s like a rock, baby,” Jungkook whines in your ear. You try to shrug the sentence away however the flare of unexpected pain puts a firm stop to it.

“And I don’t think you’ll make it better,” you sigh, trying, in a last ditch attempt, to sound a tad playful. You think it somewhat works as Jungkook pressed a preemptively apologetic kiss to the back of your head.

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @sukunabitch; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @back2bluesidex; @silverliningsandstorms; @ahewlett

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sopebubbles · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Idol!Kim Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon hasn't spoken to you in weeks, but he doesn't think that's grounds for ending your relationship.

Warnings: Joon gets a little physical, but he'd never hurt you. Namjoon and I both love cursing a lil too much. Breaking up. Mentions of cheating (you didn't) and neglect (he did), car accident, uber driver, hospital stay, elevator conversation...lmao at this point the warnings are longer than the damn story. It's not that bad. Reader is thriving (hair flip)

Wc: 1.1k, he a smol boi, I don't usually do small drabbles like this so let me know if you liked it in the comments 💜

P.s. this isnt any specific Minho, he's just a Minho but if you like, you're free to envision him as the Minho of your choosing. I don't control your mind.

A whole month had passed. Five weeks, in fact, and you hadn't seen or heard from Namjoon. Granted a whole one of those weeks had been spent in the hospital, but that clearly hadn't mattered to him. You hadn't been avoiding him. Not exactly. You'd think living in the same building would make you more likely to run into him, but it hadn't been that way even when your relationship was good. Now all it took was not actively seeking him out and you had managed to go thirty-four whole days without seeing him. When you saw the clench of his jaw, you were certain you could have gone much, much longer. You passed him and entered the building before rolling your eyes at him.

It was late and your heels on the marble floor of the lobby as you clipped your way to the elevators was the only apparent sound. A set of metal doors opened immediately to accept you, and you could only hope that he would wait for a different elevator. But then, when have things with Namjoon ever gone like you'd hoped?

The large man—has he gotten bigger?—stepped into the car with you and all but pinned you against the wall when the doors closed. You could only stare up at him with your jaw set just as tense as his.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He growled, and not in the sexy way he sometimes did. He was fuming.

"What?"

"Don't fucking act like I didn't see what I saw!"

"What did you see?" You asked defiantly.

His hand clenched into a fist at his side as if he wanted to punch the wall beside you. "I saw you cheating on me!"

At that you could only laugh coldly. "I can't cheat on you if we aren't dating, Namjoon," you answered casually. You reached around him to hit the button for your floor because you were just sitting there at the ground floor and anyone could open it at any time, and also because you could not wait to get to your home and out of this incredibly awkward situation. However, Namjoon caught you by the wrist to stop you from calling for your floor, instead punching his number which was several floors above yours before planting himself fully in the way of the button panel. This time you let him see you roll your eyes at his childish antics.

"What do you mean we're not fucking dating?"

You crossed your arms and moved as far away from him as you could in the small space. "We broke up, Namjoon! We haven't talked in weeks! You can't possibly think that we're still together!"

He scoffed. "Just because we haven't talked in a couple weeks doesn't mean we broke up, Yn. You know I'm busy."

You wanted to ram your head against the wall. You would risk another concussion if it meant that you could get out of this conversation. "Yes, I know! You're 'too busy for this relationship'. That's why we aren't in one. It's done!" You reminded him. "And it hasn't been a couple weeks. It's been over a month."

Surprised confusion clouded his eyes. Could it really have been that long? All the days ran into one another. His circadian rhythm was shot to hell. He had been headed for the studio just now at 11:30 at night before he saw you and changed course. "We can't just be broken up because you decided. Not without talking about it," he charged.

This time you actually did hit your head against the gold panel of the elevator. "Do you even fucking hear yourself? Do you know the last time we had a conversation?"

"You can't break up with me in the middle of a comeback. It's like dumping a guy when he's away at war."

"I don't have the capacity to explain to you how wrong that is. You made a choice not to think about me. We've been broken up for over a month and you didn't even notice because that's how little you think of my when I'm not right in front of your fucking face, and it was a lot longer than that since you paid any attention to me. You said the relationship wasn't working for you with your life, and I agreed. Ergo, end of fucking relationship."

As usual, Namjoon found it easy to ignore all of your real issues and concerns in your relationship when he knew he was in the wrong. "So who the fuck is he if he's so much better than me? Huh? Where did you meet him?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but his name is Minho and he was my nurse," you said in a considerably calmer voice.

Namjoon took a second to try to process that. "What do you mean your nurse?"

You took the deepest breath you could before answering. "Do you remember the night I kept calling you and you didn't answer and you told me you didn't have time to worry about our relationship? Aka the night we broke up?" The look on his face told you he had only a vague recollection of that. Probably there were a lot of nights he felt he didn't have time for you. "Do you remember how we were supposed to go out the night before, but you didn't show up and then you didn't hear from me for twenty-four hours?" Namjoon shrugged slightly. That he did remember, at least the letting you down part. He figured your lack of communicating had been you being angry and punishing him, but by the next evening he had already forgotten. "Well, I took an uber home. We got in an accident. The seat belt broke and I was ejected from the car. I spent a week in the hospital. And it was Minho who helped fix me up. When I was discharged he asked me if he could take me out on a date and we vibed so i said yes."

Namjoon shrank a little where he stood. "Why didn't you–" he let the foolish question die on his lips. "I'm sorry."

You shrugged. "It's done. You made it clear what you could give and it wasn't what I needed. If we could have communicated, maybe things could have been different, but that wasn't meant to be. It's better this way."

Namjoon felt defeated. He had truly liked you, imagined himself to be in love even, but he knew that he couldn't make such a claim when his actions didn't measure up. If he could go back in time, he would at least try to do things differently. But the past was passed, and so were you. The elevator dinged and the doors at his back opened. He looked at you regretfully.

"Goodnight, Namjoon. I hope everything works out for you," you said sincerely.

Namjoon nodded his head and slowly stepped off the elevator. "Take care, Yn," he said before the doors closed on you.

A/n: this came about bc beastie and I are currently obsessed with secure attachment styles and that means saying goodbye when someone says they can't give you what you need. Know your worth, honey. Also sorry for being so punchy in the notes, I've been up since 4am.

Permanent taglist: @halesandy @burningupp-replies @lilacdreams-00 @minclangyyy @yonkimint @wholockian1 @cbgdoll @babycoffeefire @theatren3rd @bri-mal @armytwist @hwayne2294 @crish-mac @hey-itsmina @jikooksgirl19 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @lxvelyjiminie @marvelfamily3000 @borahae-reads @shadowyjellyfishfest @yoongiigolden @staerryminimini @valhallawhispers @m4gg13-g @i-have-no-life-charlie

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fic #bts namjoon #bts angst #kim namjoon #namjoon fanfic #namjoon #namjoon angst #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts idol au #bts

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riaarivic · 6 months

Text

HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 1 Into you

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

💗 Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary Four years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗 Warnings for the series: Unplanned pregnancy (I KNOW BUT HEAR ME OUT) Unprotected sex, foul language, angst, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort. Will update as the series progress. 💗 Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 3,4k

💗 Series Index 1 2

His 01: Into you

"And baby even on our worst nights. I'm into you" Into you - Paramore.

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

You have to admit, you've been glued to your computer screen for a solid twenty minutes, utterly motionless.

Hyung-Joon, once your boss and now your business partner, just forwarded an email confirming your company's involvement in BTS's upcoming Permission to Dance on Stage tour. The whole team was buzzing with excitement about the colossal job ahead.

It would be the biggest job in your company.

It really was the opportunity of a lifetime, the pay was enough to take Hana on a Disney cruise vacation.

For a whole year.

Three years in a row.

Heck, you could buy the damn boat.

That's how good it would be.

You should be basking in the joy of this achievement.

Yet, the smallest detail casts a shadow over the happiness—precisely, the leader of the band. The young, talented, millionaire, successful, infuriating asshole Kim Namjoon is your daughter's father.

For the tiniest detail, it must be emphasized that he had no intention of being a part of her life.

Fuck him.

He couldn't even summon the decency to meet your gaze when he sent his mother and manager to deliver an envelope full of money, effectively kicking you and your daughter out of Korea.

The memory of it turned your stomach.

💗💗💗JANUARY 2017💗💗💗

An alien.

That's how all the people saw you when you entered Big Hit as if you came from another planet entirely. An alien who spoke their language perfectly, who had not come as part of a tourist excursion, but to work.

They all regarded you as if you had a second head protruding from your back. The security, while registering your information for your access card; the staff, makeup artists, hair stylists—all whispered things as you walked by.

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

The chance of a lifetime, you reminded yourself. The pay might not be extravagant, but the perks of being part of a K-pop group's staff more than compensated for it.

You were going to travel all over the world, meet new people, eat delicious things and most of all… be as far away geographically as possible from where you came from.

This is the opportunity of a lifetime

After navigating several security checkpoints and maneuvering through what felt like a maze of boxes filled with the group's merchandise, materials, and clothing, you reached the office where they awaited you.

The global press department.

Though the term "department" sounded too grand for the small space—more like a converted broom closet with your boss's desk and yours side by side.

"Oh! Miss… um," you smiled as you saw him struggling with the pronunciation of your full name.

"Call me y/n. You must be Manager Hyung-Joon," the man let out a sigh of relief. Despite his imposing stature, dominating the tiny office, a friendly smile adorned his face.

"Miss y/n, you're just in time. They are about to finish a rehearsal, and we are going to start the first practice interviews for the US tour. Did you bring everything you need?" You nodded, and he motioned for you to follow him.

Probably, nothing you had read about this group could prepare you for what lay ahead. As Manager Hyung-Joon swung open the door, the first thing that struck you was the noise.

That room was pure Chaos.

What you'd expect if you left seven practically teenage men to their own devices. They chatted and laughed, appearing at first glance like a bunch of ordinary kids.

Not like the young men who would become the biggest musical act in history.

"Bangtan, can you please be quiet?" the manager shouted, capturing everyone's attention. "This is y/n; she will be your translator from now on." All seven pairs of eyes turned to you simultaneously, and once again, there it was.

That look that made you feel utterly out of place.

According to what you'd been told, it wasn't common for the company to hire young, let alone single, women to work with BTS. Yet, you excelled at your job, armed with a glowing recommendation letter from one of your college professors.

Fast and precise with translations, you also brought experience as a journalist before accepting this position.

And that you accepted the joke of a salary they offered.

The company deemed you useful enough to overlook the fact that you would be the only woman among these men most of the time.

But your integration into the staff didn't happen before their main manager warned them that any attempt at inappropriate behavior towards you would result in drastic consequences.

Not to mention the uncomfortably awkward conversation you had in the president's office, where terms like contraceptives, confidentiality agreements, and the ominous "If you have any kind of relationship with one of the members, we will sue you for everything you have" echoed.

Though you were sure the suitcase you brought to Korea wouldn't be much help to a music company at the time.

The message was clear:

Mess with one of them.

You're out.

It's not like you were interested in a workplace romance; true, they were all attractive, but you needed this job more than anything else in the world.

At that time, Bangtan was gearing up for their promotions in the United States, and they required someone to assist them in English communication.

So they wouldn't be overly dependent on him.

"Do you even speak Korean?" that was the very first words he spoke to you. He wore an expression somewhere between puzzled and annoyed for a moment before turning to speak to Hyung-Joon as if you weren't there. "Are you sure she's not a stalker?"

"I'm a communications major from Busan National University. I also speak Japanese, French, Spanish, and Portuguese. But my first language is English. I suppose that answers your question," you retorted, meeting his gaze challengingly, and he rolled his eyes as if your response bored him.

At the far end of the room, you heard an amused snort; you recognized him from the dossier—his name was Suga.

"Did that lady just shut up Namjoon-hyung?" the youngest among them stared at you as if you were a unicorn, a mythical creature, the weirdest thing he has ever seen, and the older one nudged him to stop staring.

"Nice to meet you all; my name is y/n. I will be your translator, and I hope you can take care of me." You bowed, and when you straightened, you smiled at everyone. He kept his stare locked at you, irritated and unimpressed by your initial response.

That was the beginning of it all.

💗💗💗DECEMBER 2018💗💗💗

Fool.

A complete fool is how you felt, your heart pounding in your chest as you found yourself on your bathroom floor holding a positive pregnancy test. Four years ago, your heart held a different kind of weight, the weight of a secret growing within you.

Two weeks after he had returned to Seoul.

Exactly two weeks after you had told him to get the fuck out of your life.

No. That's not true.

You know better now. He was already gone before you found the strength to let him go. You just hadn't realized it.

So, here you were sitting on your bathroom floor. The weight of your shared history hanging heavily between you. Looking at the abstract pattern on the tiles feeling like a complete idiot.

Feeling guilty for a child who will grow up without a father.

Because...

You thought you were strong enough to handle it. You believed you could navigate motherhood alone, but...

Should you tell him?

Would it be too selfish to unveil this reality now?

How could you shatter his world, now that his career soared to unprecedented heights?

And the company…

You knew The company would go to great lengths to erase you and this secret from existence if necessary..

Kim Namjoon the leader of BTS.

Korea's pride.

Fathering an unplanned child out of wedlock with a foreigner?

It could dismantle everything he had worked for.

And his group. It will destroy them and he will never forgive you for it.

Besides, did you even have the right to reenter his life?

After what you have said to him? After the wounds you carved upon each other?

You wanted to cry, but the tears remained trapped within your eyes.

Kim Namjoon, the man known as RM, the leader of BTS, was your adversary, your lover, the man who once held your heart, and the one who shattered it into irreparable pieces—

All within a year.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

This is a terrible idea

It took you too long to work up the courage to tell him that you had had a daughter. But you couldn't tell him by phone call or mail.

You mustered all the courage you had and took a plane from Los Angeles to Korea. You definitely did not imagine how extremely difficult 16 hours on a flight with a one year old baby would be.

You had to bribe Jungkook with buying him 10 cartons of banana milk to get his new number.

Calling him was much harder.

"Hello?" His voice, after a year, stirred emotions you believed buried deep within.

You had no idea what to say.

Hi Namjoon, remember me? I'm y/n, your ex-girlfriend, ex-enemy, ex-translator? Oh, by the way, we have a daughter. I'm in Korea. Sorry for not telling you earlier; I panicked, thinking the company might erase us if they found out. Congratulations on the new album.

Definitely not that.

"Hey, Joonie," you blurted, and somehow felt like worse alternative, "I'm in Korea, and I'd like to talk…"

"Yes," he interrupted, his voice as desperate as yours, "I'm sending a driver for you. Where are you staying?"

Two hours later, a black company van awaited you in front of your hotel. It transported you to a far more luxurious apartment complex than their previous dormitory.

They are doing so well.

That made you proud, they deserved every drop of success they had.

But he wasn't in the apartment.

Waiting for you in the living room was a face you'd only seen once—Namjoon's mother, Mrs. Kim Seolmi. Accompanied by bodyguards and a staff member, her gaze held the same mix of disappointment and anger as the first meeting. Her eyes shifted sourly when they landed on Hana, in your arms.

Hana was the vivid image of her father, every feature, dimples, almond eyes, pouty lips, and even her expressions. Seeing Namjoon in her.

It took Mrs. Kim mere seconds to deduce the baby in your arms was her granddaughter.

"He doesn't want to see you, neither you nor the bastard child you're carrying. Did you think you could pass off just anyone's daughter as my son's?" She pulled an envelope from her bag. You knew it contained money. "Take it and leave. A gold-digger like you, using men for money. How disgusting."

"Madam, I don't need your money. If Namjoon doesn't want to see me, he should tell me himself." You clutched your crying daughter, scared by the woman's shouts.

From a corridor emerged Sejin, BangTan's main manager. He always knew everything about them. And his presence here meant The company was already aware that Namjoon had a daughter.

Shit.

"I'm sorry, Miss y/n, but it's true. He asked us to give this to you," Sejin handed you a sealed letter with your name on it, "and this you must sign. It's the only way to prevent the company from taking legal action against you for involving yourself with a member."

"Ha! As if the half-breed was really my Namjoon's daughter."

Oh you were going to kill that woman.

Before you could unleash your thoughts, Sejin spoke again. "y/n, you know what it means to be in a relationship with an idol, let alone having a daughter out of wedlock. This could destroy him and Bangtan. I'm sure you don't want that." His voice carried pity.

"You don't want to go trough this, and we know you don't want to put your daughter through it." He took a breath and sat in front of you. "The company is willing to compensate you for your silence. It's your only option—"

"I don't want your fucking money, Sejin"

"Miss, if you go against the company, we'll have to fight in court, and you could lose custody of your daughter. I'm sorry, but it's true. He didn't want to come when he found out you were coming with your child."

He didn't want to come

When he found out

That you were coming with a child.

Your child.

That phrase echoed in your mind for years. You could still close your eyes and see Sejin's pitiful face—the same one he wore when informing an employee they could no longer work for them.

Because they spoke a second too long with one of them.

Because they smiled at them a little too much.

Because feelings started to emerge.

All were fired and forced to sign mountains of legal documents preventing them from ever speaking about what transpired.

Some were even offered positions at other agencies.

"You're fortunate Bang PDnim decided to compensate you. But it's your decision," he concluded.

Three hours later, you were repacking to return to Los Angeles, vowing never to set foot in Seoul again.

This should never have happened.

As you wiped away tears, your phone buzzed with several notifications.

Message from unknown number: Doll, it's Yoongi. Jungkook told me you were here and you were staying at a hotel in Myeongdon. Message from unknown number: I'm coming to see you.

Message from Cookie 🍪: Y/n Noona, Yoongi Hyung asked me to give him your number. Thanks for the banana milk, you should stop by the dorm and let's drink soju like old times!!!!

Message from NJ: I am so sorry. I hope you can understand.

The last message made you want to throw up.

The phone started vibrating with an incoming call…..

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Hyun-Joon regarded you with the same concerned eyes he had five years ago when you first met. He had transitioned from being your boss to your business partner and, eventually, one of your dearest friends. A few months after your departure from Korea, he called to share the news of starting their own management agency with a friend.

The startup funds came from the envelope Sejin handed you as compensation for never disclosing the identity of your daughter's father.

At least something good came from shattering your heart into a thousand pieces.

Today, you were the CEO of a flourishing company offering diverse services to music companies in Korea—translators, managers, staff, security; you had it all, and your agency ranked as the best in the market.

It was only a matter of time before you appeared on HYBE's radar.

It was only a matter of time before you found yourself back in the same room as him.

"Of course, this is the best contract the agency has had since we started. We are professionals, and your CEO is no exception," you reassured yourself more than Hyun-Joon.

He scrutinized you, trying to believe your conviction. "Well, let's get ready; they are about to come in."

The sight before you differed vastly from the first time you saw them in the modest conference room at what was then Big Hit. Through the glass door leading to your meeting room, the bodyguards entered first, followed by the new individual managers.

You knew much had changed since your last encounter. Initially, it was just you and a handful of staff members.

Now, it felt as if the President of the United States or Beyoncé were about to make an entrance.

Scratch that, the president's secret service probably had fewer people.

The room was nearly full, yet they hadn't arrived.

Jungkook walked in first. The last time you saw him, he still wore his school uniform. Now, he appeared as if he had stepped out of a novel, exuding a bad-boy aura with tattoos and all-black attire.

Behind him, Taehyung, the shy boy with the innocent smile, wore a designer suit, exuding timeless elegance like the protagonist of an old Hollywood film. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him.

Jimin seemed unchanged yet transformed simultaneously—beautiful, elegant, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. When he saw you, he smiled discreetly, as if holding back many unspoken words.

Following him, J-Hope entered. His off-stage personality always intimidated you, yet he remained the kindest and most focused among them. That hadn't changed.

Yoongi walked in behind him, smiling genuinely upon seeing you. Among all of them, he was the only one you still maintained contact with. Nonetheless, seeing him in person brought a sense of relief.

Jin came in almost last, and you couldn't help but be amused. Despite not having seen him in person for four years, he hadn't aged a day. Serene as ever, he entered with a respectful bow.

A chill ran down your spine.

They entered in the official order.

From youngest to oldest.

And last.

Him.

Kim Namjoon, always entering last, responsible for introducing them all. Front and center, as always. His now-blond hair caught your attention first. Even beneath his clothes, you could see that he had grown. His arms filled his shirt just like his chest and legs.

Your mind instinctively wandered into territory you almost slapped yourself for entertaining.

You looked up, and he was looking at you. Whether he was surprised or not, his face revealed nothing. With almost a decade in the business, Kim Namjoon knew how to conceal his emotions.

Assuming he had any.

He obviously doesn't care to see you. And who were you to him?—just some woman he was fucking four years ago.

Just

The mother of his daughter.

Your ears buzzed, and you were so deeply lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice when he began talking.

"...it's a pleasure for us to work again with you and your agency," that damn voice, it could still stir emotions in you. "Miss Y/LN, it's also nice to see you again."

Oh, is he going to call you by your last name?

"It's Lee now," your voice sounded cooler than you thought it would, perfect.

"Congratulations, in that case," he stiffened his jaw, and you smiled at him. Simultaneously, several people in the room tensed up.

Ah yes, that was another detail Kim Namjoon obviously didn't know about you.

Eric Lee was your other business partner and your best friend. You had married three years ago so that he could obtain a visa and stay in the US with you.

Eric gave his last name to Hana and had practically raised her with you.

And also.

Eric was completely, totally, and utterly gay.

Your marriage was only on paper.

But that was a detail you weren't going to explain to Kim Namjoon.

By the way… where the hell was he?

Namjoon cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. "In that case, I think we can start—"

"Mommy!" a little voice interrupted, entering the room. With so many people there, you could only see the top of her dark brown hair. "Uncle said to play hide and seek; can I hide with you?"

Almond eyes.

Dimples in the smile.

The same pouty lips.

Kim Namjoon who was almost 10 years in the industry and knew perfectly well how to hide his emotions, but he looked at the little girl in front of him as if he had just seen an alien.

His face showed a thousand questions.

How old was that little girl?

Why did she have the same eyes as him?

Why had she called you mom?

Did you have a daughter?

The whole room tensed up.

Oh shit, I knew this was a bad idea.

But things happened so fast.

For the first time in her life, Kim Namjoon looked at his daughter's face.

And you were looking at the consecuence of what once was a stolen kiss behind a closed door.

And then evolved to so much more.

A snarky remark.

An irritated snort after others spoke.

A heated argument in a press room.

A few stolen kisses behind the staff room door.

A night in a hotel room.

And despite your reluctance to admit it,

Despite everything.

You would always be

His.

💗💗💗💗💗💗

I KNOOOOOWWWW! Another fic and I haven't finished translating/editing/rewriting/posting Hate!. But Yes, I had to, I had a writers block and decided to pull this one out of the vault of prompts.

Pregnancy troupe? while I'm writing a dark mafia romance? I KNOW But hear me out with this one, it is A RIDE.

I REALLY wanted to write a short agnsty BUT filled with heart clenching romance and.. other things clenching smuttines.

Yes, I'll continue updating Hate! but i would love you a bit if you give this baby a chance... literal baby. AND KIM NAMJOON AS A GIRL DAD!!?? IM NOT GOING TO DEPRIVE MYSELF OF THAT

Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

As always love you guys,

Ria 💗

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts suga #bts #bts imagines #bts au #bts rm #bts romance #bts idol #namjoon #run bts #bts fic #bts scenarios

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cheolhub · 2 years

Note

NAMJOON NSFW HEADCANONS😫

NSFW HEADCANONS! ⌇KIM NAMJOON ࿐

— A.NOTE: MY GOD. joon day coming soon, i have so much prepared for him ;) THANK U FOR THIS REQUEST!! he’s so 😩 i cried writing the last few i love him sm… but hopefully you all enjoy! sorry for any errors :,)

ngl, his first time with you is suuuuper awkward– he’s stuttering, overwhelmed by you, probably cums too fast… but rest assured every time after is mind-blowing

joon’s is a natural leader so it’s no surprise that he’s dom leaning in means of power play

we all know he’s packing. HUGE if you will– he understands that, but he can’t help but have a size kink

you just look so cute crying over his stupid, big cock, he can’t help but get even harder at the sight

even still, he’s a very soft dom (usually), focused on giving you pleasure and praising you for taking him so well

says things like, “you’re so good, baby, takin’ my cock so well,” or “you’re so gorgeous when you cum all over me, so fucking pretty all for me,” :( says all the right things to make you fall apart under him

joon likes calling you pet names, baby being his favorite, but he also calls you pretty girl, sweetheart, angel, his good girl </3 etc.

he lets you top him sometimes, but he typically prefers to be in charge

there are some days, though, when he wants to absolutely ruin you

with your consent, of course, he is a real man

whether he’s had a bad day or you’ve just been overly bratty or if the bartender's eyes lingered on you for a few seconds longer than they should have

he can and will fuck the life out of you like a hard, mean dom

will degrade you, but only with praise mixed in

says things like, “pussy’s suckin’ me in so well, such a good little slut,” and “you’re my pretty whore, ain’t that right?”

when he’s mean, he has a bit of a daddy kink

he just likes it, you sound so pretty when you’re whining and withering out, “daddy! daddy, please!” he swears you’ll be the death of him

his favorite position is cowgirl (who’s surprised) cuz he likes how you look riding him

watching you fall apart on his cock makes him feral and he always ends up fucking into you and playing with your tits (namjoon is a tit man, do not fight me on this)

and when your thighs burn and you simply can’t, he flips you over and fucks you so nice and deep that you’re turning into mush

another thing, he’s loud (not up for debate, like at all.)

he moans and groans and grunts and just when he’s about to bust, he whines and it’s fucking hot coming from such a big man

when he’s super close and his cock is literally throbbing inside of you, he starts babbling about how good your pussy is and how you’re made for him and how much he loves you :(((

aftercare with namjoon

the best in the world tbh, definitely the best within the group

his demeanor completely changes, the man that once dripped with dominance was replaced by his usual, nervous self

so, so careful with your body as if he didn’t just ravish you a few minutes prior

cleans you up quickly, makes you drink lots of water, even brings you a snack to “replenish your energy”

he makes you pee after because he read somewhere that you’re supposed to so you avoid infection (always says it in a sheepish voice while awkwardly scratching his neck T-T)

showers with you (if you’re not too tired) and washes your body for you while apologizing profusely for being so rough with you (even if he wasn’t being rough, he just feels bad)

and when you’re out of the shower, he dresses you in his shirt and a pair of your own panties and gets into bed with you and literally clings to you like a perfect embodiment of a koala bear

he whispers in your ear and reminds you how much he loves you and thinks you’re the most beautiful person in the world until you fall asleep entangled with him

#[💌: nonnie]#bts smut #bts x reader #bts headcanons #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon headcanons

1K notes · View notes

ahundredtimesover · 1 year

Text

Untitled | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: idolverse (no explicit mentions of BTS), strangers au; angst, smut

Warnings: foul language, inexplicit smut (making out, non-descriptive penetrative sex) (18+)

Word count: 16k

Summary: For years as a sculptor, you felt detached from your own work - unable to title them, describe them, name the most basic emotions that artists should be in tune with. A chance encounter with a man one winter night finds you in a journey of finding your own meaning. And as you slowly discover what it means to create and to feel, you find out that this might also be what pulls both of you far apart.

A/N1: It’s been tough being on a writing slump and not being able to come up with something new, but then Indigo happened. I’ve been so into Closer and been wanting to write something that would encapsulate the song’s emotions, but the more I listened to NJ talk about his album (especially Yun), the more I got to reflect on so many other things. So here we are. This was a quick write (and an experiment, too!) filled with my own ramblings and questions that only one Kim Namjoon would prompt me to have. Please enjoy.

A/N2: I’m not an artist, but I’m fascinated by them and what they create (Van Gogh’s Digital Art Exhibition in the LUME, Melbourne from last September just blew my away). In another life, I probably would’ve been a collector. But the essence of humanity in my professional work links to my own appreciation of art in that sense. All the things that I wonder about life and the essence of being human are reflected here. I’ve taken from Namjoon’s reflections and insights as well, and once again, I was reminded of his brilliance and his heart.

2020, early winter

A little boy with a bucket painting stars in the sky.

That’s what this season’s artwork on the side of the building is. Just this fall, it was a girl raising a paper airplane on this exact spot; in the summer, it was another kid on a swing, and in spring, it was a child with an opened suitcase, their toys falling out and drifting into a stream.

Lost childhood, perhaps. That’s what happens when the world stands still, Namjoon thinks. He’d written a song about it - the things we lost during the time when time froze, and maybe just like these paintings, life continued to go on. The yearning remains, though, and he can see it on the piece that he’s been looking at for minutes now.

Maybe the artist is young, mourning their own youth that slipped from their fingers. Maybe it’s someone a little older, mourning it for others. Maybe it’s just a person who’s trying to understand the situation through a child’s eyes - with innocence, confusion, trust. Maybe it’s—

The sound of footsteps disrupts Namjoon’s thoughts. It’s 2AM and he’s a little surprised that someone is in the area at this time. It’s a busy street during the day and the crowd falls away early. It’s completely deserted by this hour; it’s why he likes taking this route from the office to his apartment. He’s always liked walking home regardless of the distance, but it’s at night when he feels most free, and it’s become something he looks forward to everyday.

He’s about to turn away when he notices a figure run up to the small building where the painting he was just admiring is. The individual lays their bag on the floor and retrieves a paintbrush and a pail, seemingly about to continue their work that Namjoon didn’t even realize was still unfinished.

“Fuck,” the voice curses out. “Fuck fuck fucking shit. Why do I always forget my hot packs!”

The person removes their mask and blows into their cupped hands, rubbing them after in hopes of sustaining the heat from the friction.

“Just a bit more,” they continue, gloved hand now pointing ripples by the boy’s legs as he stands in a body of water. “Just a bit more.”

As chattering teeth and the blowing of air on hands continue, Namjoon decides to make himself known. The stranger is clearly trying to finish their work - and he’s curious to see this all unfold, finding amusement in watching an artist in action - but the cold air is quite uncomfortable.

“Hey,” he says, as the figure stops their movements. “I’m not a creep, I promise. I was just looking at your work but you’re freezing and I… I’ve got some extra hot packs with me.”

You slowly turn around with furrowed brows. This is the first time you’ve come across another person during the early mornings you paint on this specific building. You’ve gotten used to the emptiness of this street at this time, but somehow, hearing this man’s deep, rough voice is giving you comfort. Especially since he’s offering something you need.

“Sure, that would be great,” you say, blowing into your hands again.

He slowly walks forward - clad in a thick hoodie and beanie, his mask covering half of his face. He looks familiar, but you don’t have much time to place where you know him from. You take the hot packs he offers, squeeze one with your free hand while the other continues on with the piece that you want to finish tonight.

“Will it take much longer?” He asks, his voice kind. “I didn’t know it was unfinished and it’s quite interesting to see an artist complete their work. So, uh, can I watch?”

You turn towards him. On a normal day, you’d turn him away. You’re not too keen on anyone on your ass while you finish something, but he doesn’t seem like a creep and he was kind enough to give you hot packs at a time like this, so you nod.

It doesn’t take long. It’s just some ripples and a few strokes left anyway; you were freezing too much last night so you put off the final details for tonight. And then the last bit. You sign your name on the bottom corner, and a gasp leaves the stranger’s mouth.

“Wait, you’re Blue…” he says, the realization dawning on him. “

“Surprise,” you reply, standing up from your squatting position.

“I mean, I figured since you’ve been painting children and their lost youth this past year but… the man in the rain, the distorted face on the mirror, the hand on the neck… those were you, too.”

Namjoon can’t believe he’s finally face-to-face with the artist whose work has been haunting him since he first came across one on an electric post 3 years ago.

They were in other parts of the city. He remembers seeing them on walls and buildings during his walks home or when he was in the car, and then some weeks later, they were gone, either replaced with a new piece of work or just painted over, as if it never existed. He’d seen the signature a few times, and seeing it again reminded him that it was you, too. The one who’d created those masterpieces that got him thinking, feeling, wondering.

“You have a good memory,” you simply smile at him, realizing at this point that you’ve left your mask off. You put it back on and take in his domineering form. “Those were years ago; I’ve almost forgotten about them.”

“I haven’t. I mean, sort of.”

“Good. That was the point,” you reply. “I mean, sort of.”

“The point being? That I find something that speaks to me and then the next minute, they’re gone?” He says, quite defensive. It bothered him for a time that he never got to see those pieces again.

“What did they make you feel?”

“Desolate? Alone? Confused? Desperate?”

“Then you forgot about them, didn’t you?”

“The paintings, sort of. Not the feeling, though,” he frowns. “I still think about them but… I think I’ve forgotten exactly what they look like. Is that what you wanted?”

“Pretty much,” you hum, starting to pack your things. “The stuff I leave on for a few weeks are mostly sad, and I paint over them because I don’t want people to dwell on them. I want people… to forget, to move on.”

“But they don’t, not really. I’m sure they’ve taken photos if it spoke to them so much. At least I did, but then I deleted them because…”

“Because you got over the sadness,” you smirk, knowing that somehow, he proved your point, and he lets out a chuckle at the realization. “It may be on their phones but it’s not the real thing. The image may be distorted, the colors different, the strokes a lot smoother. It’s not the same.”

“They should be preserved,” he voices out. “It’s art. Those things are meant to be immortalized, no matter how they make people feel.”

“Not always,” you counter. “At least for me, I make those to forget. The feelings fade once the art does. I created them that way.”

“Hmm,” Namjoon hums, taking this time to observe you, as you’d rendered him speechless.

There’s this softness in your eyes that contrasts the words you say. He doesn’t want to imagine what you might’ve gone through to create hauntingly beautiful pieces inspired by feelings you want to forget.

Whatever those are, he truly does wish you’ve let those go. He knows he has. But he still disagrees - he doesn’t think art ever fades. Perhaps feelings do, but he’s come to learn that visual art is eternal.

“So how long will you keep this up?” He asks, wondering when he’d see you again; the allure and intrigue from your words makes him want to know more.

“Until the next season,” you say, picking up your bag now. “It’s been a tough year and I hope the spring brings more hope.”

“But you also don’t want them to dwell on this… the loss of childhood, of youth,” he continues. “You want them to move on from this, focus on what’s to be gained after losing something important.”

“You’re a fast learner,” you wink, and Namjoon surprises himself by the way his heart jumps at the sight. “You must be a genius or something. Or an artist yourself.”

“Neither,” he lies. “I mean, I’m barely anything, really.”

“I doubt it. A guy like you being affected by all this means you’re something, whatever it is.”

There’s something validating about your words, and he smiles behind his mask, something you see, as you smile back.

It’s odd, feeling a sense of connection with a stranger like this, something he’s never really experienced, most times because he’s always wary of who he meets, especially at this time of the night. But you don’t seem to know who he is. And if you do, you don’t seem to mind or want to make a deal out of it, something that he appreciates.

There’s comfort in your smile, and he wants to discover what other things cause it. There’s a dearth of experience in your words, and he wants to know more. There’s a tenderness in your eyes that he wants to mirror; he wishes he can give comfort to someone just by looking at them.

Maybe it’s the cold breeze. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s the end of the year and he’s spending it alone again. Maybe it’s spending an entire day cooped up in his studio only to go home to an empty apartment. Maybe it’s knowing what a year it was and what’s about to come. He didn’t think that a stranger in a yellow puff jacket who cursed so crisply would be the one to make his walk back home not feel so lonely. That the woman who’d casually painted some ripples and splashes on the wall was the one who’d make him feel a little less alone.

“So, uh, do you usually paint at the start or end of the season?” He wonders.

“Are you trying to ask when you’re gonna see me again?” You look at him with an arched brow.

“Maybe,” Namjoon chuckles. He’s also just trying to delay your departure, seeing as you seem to be ready to leave.

He doesn’t want to ask your name, not ready himself to share who he is. But perhaps the next meeting won’t be as serendipitous as this.

“It depends,” you tease. “But maybe I’ll see you again, either here, or elsewhere.”

“I hope it’s soon,” he confesses. He’s being bold, but his eyes light up when you reply.

“I hope so, too.”

Namjoon walks the opposite direction of where you are headed, turning back once to look at you, and catching your eyes when he does.

Winter passes. His busy schedule doesn’t permit him to take this route for a while, and it’s mid-spring when he sees a new painting that’s been completed - a young girl looking through a glass window to a world outside, her fingers holding onto the latch as she readies to open it. A small smile forms on his face; he at least sees something of you, even if it isn’t you.

The next time he’s able to pass by, it’s the end of summer, and all he sees is a gray wall - empty, undisturbed, as if there was nothing there to begin with.

2021, autumn

The bell rings as Namjoon enters the building, an art gallery that he’s been frequenting the past few months. There are new pieces, he’s been told, and one of the curators that he’s become friends with informed him that some of the artists are in town.

He nods in greeting at familiar faces - employees, artists, casual visitors. He walks around, taking in the new paintings and sculptures displayed. As he turns towards one of the smaller rooms, a piece catches his eye.

It’s something he’d seen before, a piece of ceramic sculpted in such a way that it looks like a flower in one angle, a seashell in another. And, dare he say, a vulva from a little farther away.

He reads the label. Untitled 56, Samantha Lee.

Namjoon goes through the photos on his phone, knowing it was a trip to LA over 2 years ago where he’d encountered something similar.

And there it is. Untitled 48, Samantha Lee.

He took the photo from an angle that looked like flowers, thinking about the simplicity and beauty, the choice of colors, and how they hung on the wall as part of the installation. It was one of many pieces he documented, but was the only one he didn’t get much story from. There was no description, no background. He wasn’t quite sure what to feel.

“Find something that interests you?”

Mr. Hong is one of the founders of this gallery, and he spends much of his time getting to know the regular visitors and the artists. He’s definitely someone who knows when something strikes Namjoon, like right now.

“Samantha Lee,” Namjoon responds. “Are they a local artist? I think I saw their work in LA some time ago.”

“Ah, yes Ms., uh, Ms. Lee. She’s a local and has her pieces displayed in several galleries. She’s here, actually,” Mr. Hong excitedly shares, noting how important it is for the Kim Namjoon to meet one of the artists. “She was supposed to come yesterday but decided to drop by today instead. Would you like to meet her?”

“Ah, that would be great,” Namjoon smiles back. “If she is fine with that, of course.”

Mr. Hong is never sure if the said artist is, but Namjoon is a special guest, he thinks, so the older man nods. “I’ll lead you to her.”

Namjoon is led up a small flight of stairs and out to a patio with more installations displayed. He spots several people outside, and he tries to determine which one of them is the artist he wants to meet, perhaps ask why she’d untitled all her pieces, and why there’s nothing of her at all that she chooses to share.

He stops in front of two women as instructed by Mr. Hong.

“He’s a fucking asshole, that’s what he is,” a familiar voice spits out. “The next time he harasses you, I’m going to impale his dick with my heels and—”

“Ehem,” Mr. Hong clears his throat, prompting both women to look at him. “Ms. Lee, one of our patrons would like to meet you.”

He shares a look with the woman before she nods and smiles. She turns to Namjoon where he’s met with familiar tender eyes, eyes he’s been yearning to see since that cold winter night.

“Blue?” He asks, surprised.

“My favorite color, yes. How did you know?”

You look at the man in front of you, tall and broad with caramel skin and a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. You’ve seen this smile before. Even behind a mask, you could tell it’s him, the man who’d saved your ass that one cold winter night with his extra hot packs and his calming voice.

You thought you’d see him again, seeing as he seemed to want to, but he never came that spring. You even left a small, ridiculous note at the corner where your signature usually is, asking when he’d come, thinking he’d communicate with you there. But the response never came.

The universe is tricky sometimes. You passed up on coming to the gallery yesterday because you felt dizzy when you woke up. And of all days that your winter night man visits, it’s the one where you’re here.

“I just figured,” Namjoon smiles, picking up your hints. “It’s one of mine, too.”

“Perhaps we should talk about the complexities of the color, then,” you smile back, nodding towards one of the sections in the large patio.

You lead him there, leaving Mr. Hong and his warning gaze and your assistant, whose smirk and teasing laughter makes you glare at her.

“I’m guessing they don’t know about you being Blue?” Namjoon asks, feeling a little jittery standing next to you again and being able to see your face much more clearly, your hair tied loosely in a bun and your clothes a nice fit for the cool weather.

“Minji does. She helps me find materials,” you respond. “Mr. Hong doesn’t. He’s not much of a fan of street art.”

“That’s a bummer, especially since one of the artists creates amazing pieces on buildings and posts and then signs them, then abandons them, and leaves spectators like me to wonder where they’d gone,” Namjoon replies, hoping you don’t find offense with his tiny jab.

Your chuckle tells him you don’t. “You never came.”

“I didn’t know when to,” he defends. “Well, more like, I stopped having the time. That place is so far from where I live and I only walk from my office because I like that time alone and I haven’t had that, but then I came back in the summer but you—”

“You don’t have to explain,” you assure him. “That was a chance meeting and I didn’t really expect I’d see you again in the same spot weeks later.”

“Did you expect to see me this time?”

“Oh, not at all,” you shake your head. “Why are you even here?”

“Why are people ever in art galleries?” He counters. “To check out the art. Maybe chance upon the artists if they’re here.”

“I guess,” you shrug, turning a corner to a small maze of an installation. “You wouldn’t have known it was me, though.”

“I didn’t. I was staring at Untitled 56 and realized I took a photo of Untitled 48,” he reveals, earning him a shocked look from you. “It was in LACMA. I saw it a while back. The name rang a bell because I don’t know anything about you. You leave so much to the imagination, Ms. Lee. There’s nothing about y—”

“It’s Han,” you correct him, feeling comfortable now. “I mean, Han ___. Samantha Lee is another pseudonym. Or like a stage name. You know, like you?”

You bite your lip at the slip-up, not wanting him to be uncomfortable at the thought that you clearly know who he is. But he just nods, affirming that he now knows that you know who he is, but he smiles right after, his eyes turning into the smallest, prettiest crescents and his dimples framing his strong-featured face that makes him even more handsome.

“I suppose you’re right,” he hums. “But why blue? And why Samantha Lee?”

“It’s the simpler version of my favorite color. Aegean blue is too complicated to sign every time,” you chuckle. “And Samantha Lee… Well, she was my roommate back in college and she once told me she wanted to be famous and the only way that could happen is if I used her name as a pseudonym. I had a crush on her so I agreed.”

There’s a long pause before Namjoon realizes that you’re not joking, and he comments that it’s interesting but he doesn’t ask again.

“I’m Kim Namjoon, by the way,” he reaches out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you say, internally melting at the feel of his warm and large hand. “So why did you take a photo of Untitled 48?”

“It looked like a clam.”

At this, you burst into laughter.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, just to be clear!” He insists. “It was beautifully made. It was of a neutral color but it somehow stood out the most to me in that section. And it was the 48th; I wondered why they didn't have titles. And your 56th, which looks like—”

“A vulva,” you snort.

“Yes,” he chuckles, “and a flower, yeah - something I’ve been into lately. And well, it was interesting. And seeing your piece here reminded me of that,” he goes on. “And I just wanted to know… why.”

“Why what?” You furrow your brows at him.

“Why those pieces? Why are they untitled? What prompted you to create them that way?”

“We’d probably have to tour the gallery 4 more times if you want to know,” you chuckle.

“I have time.”

“Do you?” You ask, eyeing the phone in his pocket that's been vibrating for the last 5 minutes.

He smiles shyly and excuses himself. When he returns, he has a disappointed look on his face. “Turns out, I don’t have time. But I want to. I… uh, will you be here again anytime this week?”

“I will. I’m just not sure when.”

There’s something alluring with these coincidental meetups. Somehow you want more of those, perhaps to let the universe tell you that you’re meant to constantly meet this man whose time you know you’ll never have enough of, even if he makes it for you.

“Let me see you again?”

“You will.”

You catch his eyes when he turns back as he walks away. There’s a sparkle in them, and you’re afraid to want to see it once more.

The walk to the site of the lost youth is a long one, but not knowing when you’d see the tall man with the prettiest smile again, you head there.

Your last piece was of a child at the brink of freedom, about to take the step outside the cage she’d been in for the past year and a half. You painted over it once autumn started; maybe the next time you’d paint over a building, you’re no longer yearning for lost things. Maybe you’d paint something about finding something new.

“I’m gonna start believing in a higher power if we continue meeting like this.”

The raspy voice is familiar, and you turn around to see Namjoon, clad in a hoodie and a baseball cap, leaning against one of the streetlights across the empty wall of the building you’d been staring at. It’s been 2 days since you saw him at the gallery, about 7 months since the first time you’d encountered him here. You’re unsure what this all means.

“Maybe you should,” you head towards him. “I missed the last bus so I decided to walk home. I’m still far away but this is on the way. Why are you here?”

“Stayed up at the studio,” he replies. “I’m incredibly exhausted but I don’t know, I got the energy for the long walk. Then there you were.”

“There I was, appearing so suddenly again, yeah?” You chuckle, leaning on the opposite side of the pole.

Namjoon merely hums before he nods towards the direction of his apartment. “I’m heading there.”

“Me, too.”

With his hands in his hoodie pockets and yours crossed against your chest, you try to match his long strides.

“Painting came first,” you say, as if answering the question that he’s been thinking of asking. “Painting was everything. We had so many pieces in our home, and it’s as if they spoke to me. I mean, in a not creepy way, it felt like all of my parents’ own pieces spoke to me. And they always told me I wasn’t good enough.”

Namjoon turns to look at you with empathy in his eyes. He lets you speak, and he finds out that both your parents are the artists he’d been researching lately. Your father is a classical painter, and your mother does contemporary. He can’t imagine living in gigantic shadows like that.

“When I was 15, my parents pulled strings to get some of my pieces displayed with theirs,” you sigh, recalling the mixed emotions then. “It was exciting at first, but the patrons wouldn’t mention my name unless they mentioned my parents’. And then one of my favorite pieces that I made was sold to a man who wanted it as a decoration in his summer home’s living room.”

Namjoon slows his walk and you match his pace. You meet his comforting eyes, and there’s that warmth you feel from, technically, a stranger that you didn’t expect.

“I made that piece at a time when I was frustrated living in my parents’ shadows,” you continue. “Someone once told me that art is meant to be shared, that there’s humanity in the community we create when it’s shared, that the meaning deepens when others make their own. That piece had so much of me in there; I felt like the meaning of that piece was stripped away from me the moment that stranger took home that canvas for a select few to look at. It wasn’t mine anymore, it was his; it was theirs. I stopped painting after that.”

There’s a certain kind of pain in giving up something that matters deeply to you, in losing meaning in the thing that’s given your life meaning for most of your life. Namjoon knows a bit about that pain. Many times, he’d found himself questioning all that he does, what he stands for, and what the world expects him to be.

He sees that pain in your eyes, of losing a part of you as the art stopped meaning what you wanted it to. But he doesn’t think that all is lost.

“But your street art,” he reminds you. “That’s still you. That still has meaning. And that’s something that you share.”

“That’s Blue, though,” you manage a smile. “She’s just a part of me.”

“She’s still you,” he insists. “Can you tell me about her?”

And so you tell him - how you argued with your parents about quitting painting, how you were going to turn down the scholarship in a prestigious art university to take up sociology instead, so they shipped you to a foreign country to fend for yourself, and that’s when you learned what loneliness felt like. But that’s also when you learned about people in their rawest sense, what it meant to struggle to survive, what it meant to lose something that mattered, because you studied them - you studied how humans grieved and how they persisted. You studied how they lived and how they died.

“Blue wants meaning, and she still struggles in finding it,” you explain.

“Does she?” Namjoon questions. “I’m in my late 20s but your lost youth series resonated with me. All those paintings of the man in the rain, the distorted face… they’ve inspired me in ways I can’t explain. That’s meaning, ___. That matters.”

No one outside of Minji knows all these versions of you. Except Namjoon, the brightest star you never thought you’d ever meet. Hearing him speak about your work this way makes you feel something - a first in a long time.

“Thanks, I guess,” you say shyly.

“It’s a shame they’re not displayed in galleries and museums, though.”

“I don’t want them to,” you say, surprising him. “People intend to go to museums, but they pass these streets out of necessity. I want them to stop and look, to feel, to think for a few seconds before they go back to their routinary walk. And then I remove them, so they can forget what pain and sadness feel like.”

“Looks like you found your meaning, then,” Namjoon smiles, comforted by the fact that someone as talented as you had found purpose again, something he relates with at a deeper level than he imagined.

“The painter in me did,” you reply. “The sculptor, not so much. “

“Untitled,” he hums.

“Yeah. I don’t think I can name something I understand, or at least, feel,” you say.

“That’s a lot of untitled works for you to not understand what you do,” he chuckles.

“I’m prolific because there’s not much of me I lose when I create them,” you explain. “I just sit in my stool, craft something, then call it a day. Not to brag or anything, but it comes easy. They’re shallow pieces, Namjoon. They don’t even deserve to be in galleries but Mr. Hong insists they do for some reason. I wish this version of me, Samantha Lee, understood why it matters, why someone like him would believe in my pieces, why a Kim Namjoon would think that 48 stood out to him enough to keep a photo.”

Namjoon processes your words. As an artist himself, he believes in the meaning of the pieces that he creates, whether it’s a song or a poem or an album or a concert. There’s effort put into them even if it’s something created in 30 minutes. Your pieces are beautiful, and he wants to explore more - you and your meaning, you and your value.

“Then why do you keep making them? What about it makes you keep sculpting?”

“The feel of the clay on my skin, the way my fingers get to mold and create the details,” you explain. “I get to touch it. I don’t get to do that with painting, you know? It’s the paintbrush and the canvas I feel but with sculpting, I get to mix the materials, I get to shape it, hold it.”

“There’s that intimacy,” he offers.

“Yeah. And it’s addictive because it’s closeness I’ve never felt before.” You turn to him before speaking the next words. “It's an intimacy I’ve never experienced before with anyone or anything.”

“Isn’t that your meaning, then?” He questions. “The piece itself might not have a story on its own but all these untitled works, the process of creating, of it being easy because you can’t get enough of the intimacy you get from creating… that’s meaning. That desire for closeness, for meaning… that’s meaning.”

No one’s ever put it that way for you, probably because you’ve never let yourself be this honest with someone about your art. All your friends aren’t artists because you wanted that world separate, you didn’t want to have to talk about it feeling as insecure and lost as you are.

But Namjoon - he’s one of your generation’s greatest artists. He weaves words and sounds so beautifully to create masterpieces that people consume and hold so closely. He understands.

“I’ve made songs that took me 30 minutes,” he shares. “But I’ve also made songs that took me to dark places, that broke me as I wrote them. But once they came out, once I’ve shared them to others who’ve shared what it meant to them… slowly, I started becoming whole again. Isn’t that an artist’s burden? To break to create, to feel whole after that, and then to break all over again?”

“You are truly one of a kind, Kim Namjoon,” you tell him. “I’ve lived with artists my whole life and they never let me understand art in that way.”

“I’m still figuring it all out,” he shrugs. “I still feel lost sometimes, but I think it’s natural to feel that way, to be unsure or confused. I guess what matters is that we’re still walking on some road to somewhere, even if we don’t know where we’re heading.”

“Is that where you are right now?” You wonder. “On a road to somewhere you don’t quite know yet?”

More than you know, he wants to say. He’s in this period of experimentation, of figuring out his signature style, of figuring out who he is and what he means to his teammates, to the industry, to the world.

“Sort of,” he shrugs. “It’s hard sometimes. Walks like this give me a reprieve. Consuming other people’s art lets me understand things a bit more.”

“Yeah, I get it. I mean, conversing with strangers gives me time to breathe, too.”

“Ooh, so I’m still a stranger, huh?” He chuckles, shyly looking at you. “Our third unplanned meeting, an hour of walking home… and I’m still a stranger.”

“What would you want to be, then?” You turn to him, a little teasing smile on your face.

“A friend, for starters.”

“My nighttime friend?”

“Not just,” he shakes his head. “I would like to see you again, actually. And I don’t want to put this up to chance this time. Like, something planned or—”

“And how exactly would that work?”

“I, uh…” he thinks. “I’d invite you to my apartment. And you can invite me to yours?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to get to know you more, if that’s okay.”

“Are you always this bold?” You giggle, not missing the way your cheeks start to feel warm at the mention of visiting each other’s homes and him wanting to get to know you.

He’s obviously handsome - you’ve known of him since his band made it to your TV screens, being young men who were around your age, singing songs that resonate so deeply with you. But he’s more than that, as you’re learning. There’s this passion for creating that's refreshing, something you seem to lack.

“Not always,” he looks away, the dips in his cheeks something you’re sure you won’t get enough of.

“You should be. It makes a girl flustered but it makes it so difficult for her to say no,” you smirk. Sometimes, you also don’t know where your own boldness comes from.

“You? Flustered? That’s quite hard to believe,” he teases.

“That’s true. But it happens, believe it or not, when a gorgeous, brilliant man asks me over.”

Your heart stops for what feels like a minute, but his sweet, child-like laughter melts away your worry.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” You ask.

“Surprisingly, no,” he replies. “I appreciate your honesty. About everything. I hope we can give that to each other.”

“Okay then, your turn,” you challenge.

“Hearing you curse was kinda hot.”

You try to hold off your laughter, your defense to your true reaction, which is to smile like an idiot and feel like floating.

“That’s interesting. I would’ve thought it’s something to do with my looks or my talent, you know?” You arch an eyebrow teasingly.

“It is. I think you’re beautiful. And I’m usually a forgetful person but I haven’t forgotten your sweet smile since I first saw it last winter,” he says, catching you off guard. “And your talent… there’s a reason why I have 48 saved on my phone, and why I sought out your street art these past years. I want to know what intimacy in art is like for you. I guess I’ve sort of lost that in creating my own.”

“Intimacy,” you repeat. “I think we both lack it in certain ways.”

“Maybe we’ll find it,” he says more confidently now, holding your gaze as your eyes trace his face.

“Maybe we will,” you respond, feeling your whole body warm with embers of fire.

He insists on taking you home, another 20-minute walk away from his. But you claim to enjoy that time on your own, assuring him that you do this all the time and the streets are safe.

“Let me know when you get home safely?” He asks, and you give him your phone for him to input his number.

“I will.”

It’s 30 minutes later when you do. It’s 1AM, but you and Namjoon spend the next 2 hours talking some more - about his songs and your pieces, about his plants and your collection of wind chimes.

You didn’t expect to make him laugh as much as you did, and he said he didn’t expect you to think his ramblings are adorable and amusing. You most definitely didn’t expect your heart to beat as fast as it did when he told you, in his deep, raspy voice, that he’s glad he took that long walk that winter, that he visited the art gallery when he did, that the hopeless romantic in him pushed him to go to the place you first met.

“I think I’m crazy but somehow I feel like I’ve known you for so long,” he muses.

“I feel the same way,” you assure him, as you hug your pillow and slowly surrender to sleep.

“Good,” he hums. “That’s all I wanted to know. Good night, ___. And I’ll see you soon.”

2021, winter

There’s a warmth in Namjoon’s home that’s hard to replicate. Filled with his favorite art pieces of all forms, he said he curated it to reflect his emotions just as much as his tastes. It’s clean and well-organized, with books on shelves and stacks on the floor, and an entire area full of liquor - his new interest, he’d said.

He’s had you over several times already; the first one, barely a week after that long walk home. You both spent hours that day talking about his favorite artists, and it wasn’t enough, as he asked you back the next day.

You often talk about your childhood, one that you weren’t always comfortable sharing, but being with him makes it easy.

It’s easy when he looks into your eyes when you speak, as if he’s telling you that he knows you say more than words. It’s easy when he’s got his own stories to share - stories of vulnerability and honesty, of fear and confusion. It’s easy when he still stutters over words sometimes and then gets lost in his own ramblings, then he chuckles when he realizes he’s talked so much, and you tell him that it’s okay because his voice is calming and his thoughts are a breath of fresh air.

It’s easy when his presence is comforting, when his anecdotes about his friends and family make you laugh until your insides hurt. It’s easy when he makes you feel like you can question everything about your art and your purpose and your abilities but he never makes you feel like a failure. It’s easy when he smiles and laughs nervously, when he’s funny without meaning to, and when he makes sure you’re comfortable by always having your preferred tea and biscuits next to the wine you once said is your favorite.

The only time it gets hard is when he stands a little too close as you look up at a painting or a book on a shelf. You could feel the heat from his body; a slight movement and you’d be touching, mere cloths in between you. It’s hard when his arm brushes the slightest bit against yours. It’s hard when he gazes at you when there’s silence, and it’s like he’s studying your face before you call him out and he apologizes because he “can’t stop looking at pretty things.”

It’s hard when he hugs you goodbye and he wishes you a safe ride home. It’s hard when he sends you a message right after, saying he wishes you both had more time.

Being attracted to Namjoon is hard; being attached to him is torture.

“You’re looking for him again,” Minji states the obvious as you walk around the gallery, your eyes darting to the door every time the bell rings.

“No I’m not,” you deny. “He just got back from his trip abroad and he’s tired. He won’t be coming here.”

“Doesn’t mean you wish he would,” she smirks. “But why rendezvous here? You guys go to each other’s houses. And no one goes to your house… aside from me.”

“We can’t exactly see each other in public, you know?” You glare at her. “But… I don’t know, it’s nice to see him look around and talk about what he sees. I feel like I learn more from him. And that’s weird, isn’t it? This is my field. The arts have been my entire life, but I’m learning more about it from him.”

“What is it about him?” She wonders.

She doesn’t say that she’s noticed more life in your eyes since he came into your life. She doesn’t say that she’s noted that you take more time creating pieces, seemingly savoring the process unlike the way you used to. She doesn’t mention the smile that she hasn’t seen in all the years that she’s known you.

“Passion is sexy, you know?” You giggle. “He has so much of it, it’s inspiring.”

“Is that all?” Minji smirks.

“He’s also fucking gorgeous. I try not to ogle him but I think he’s noticed. Fuck me.”

“Maybe he wants to.”

“Shut up. Don’t make me hope.”

“You do that to yourself,” she laughs. “Keep denying that you don’t want to see him or want anything more with him and let’s see how you do.”

The truth is, you know. You know that you’d fall hard if you let yourself go like that, but it’s human to know danger and then still want it, isn’t it?

The vibration from your phone ringing surprises you.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s voice booms on the other end.

“Hey,” you reply. “How was your trip?”

“Good. I just got home. We had to stop by the office for a bit. My place is a mess and we have something again in the afternoon,” he huffs, sounding incredibly tired. “Can I come over tonight?”

You almost drop the flute of champagne you’re holding. He’s been to your house twice, but this is the first time he’s specifically asked to come over, especially considering that he just arrived from a trip abroad.

“Of course,” you hum. “Any dinner preferences?”

“Your cooking,” he says simply. “But wait for me, okay? I’ll let you know when I’m on the way.”

“Okay,” you say, before dropping the call, unable to hide the wide smile that forms on your face, to your assistant’s amusement.

“Why don’t you try to let go this time?” She advises. “Maybe you’ll find the intimacy you’ve been longing for.”

Namjoon overestimates your cooking abilities. Truly, all you know to do is prepare ramyun and fry anything. But, compared to him, he’s said you’re chef level. “The guys” don’t even want him near the kitchen, he tells you all the time.

But instant noodles and pork belly seem enough for him, as he eats with his mouth closed and hums in satisfaction. You take the time to savor the way he looks. A few weeks without him has started to feel like months.

“It was overwhelming,” he finally says.

He knew the moment he landed that he wanted to see you. There’s comfort in your presence that he’s begun to accept, and being with you allows him to be honest, to feel real, to feel human.

“It was great to be able to perform again, to hear the cheers and the sounds and everything. It was also terrifying,” he continues. “I was nervous and excited, I was scared and elated. I felt so fulfilled and satisfied but I also felt like it wasn’t enough.”

“That’s a lot of conflicting emotions,” you hum.

“Are they? Conflicting, I mean.”

“It depends, I guess. They seem up and down to me. Does it bother you?”

“That I felt all that, all at once?”

You nod in response.

“It used to,” he admits. “At the start of all this, I thought, I can’t be scared. Six other guys and an entire company are looking to me to succeed. I have to be strong and confident. And then, an industry is waiting for me to fail. And then, my own country is letting me - us - represent an entire generation, it’s asking me to carry on this cultural wave. It never ends. And I used to think I couldn’t be scared, that not wanting all this anymore means I’m ungrateful.”

“But you aren’t,” you try to assure him. You can’t imagine the burden he feels, leading a group that feels all kinds of pressure. “I’ve heard you talk about your art and your poetry and your brothers and your fans. You’re easily the most passionate, hardworking, and appreciative person I know. I don’t think you’ll ever run out of things to give.”

“It’s tiring,” he sighs.

“I’m sure. But you’re honest about it. You’ve always been. Doesn’t honesty unburden you, even just a little bit? Doesn’t it leave you space to feel more, to be more?”

Namjoon hums. For someone who claims to not know much about feeling, you seem to know what to say to make him stop and think, to remind him of why he does what he does. And why ultimately, he’s always going to love it.

“It does,” he finally says, sitting up straight to take a better look at you in your linen pants and soft sweater. “Do you do that, then? Unburden yourself by being honest?”

“I’m not good at doing that,” you chuckle. “If you don’t know by now, I say a lot of seemingly profound things that I don’t necessarily live by.”

“Why not?”

“Honesty scares me. Being vulnerable scares me. I don’t know how to return it.”

“Has anybody ever been all that to you?” He wonders, feeling the tension build a little.

“Once” you say, standing from the dining table and heading to the large window that overlooks your garden. “And I ran away.”

“Is that why you sculpt, then?” Namjoon asks, walking towards you. “Because you don’t know what to do with intimacy so you do it with your art? You want to hold and touch what you walk away from? You don’t give it a name because you don’t want to define it? Because you’re scared that if you do, you’ll realize that you actually want it - the closeness, the warm body, the rawness that you can only get from being with someone else.”

You look up at him, towering over you. He came from a short filming, donned in a white, buttoned polo with his long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You can see the darkness of his hazelnut eyes and the stubble on his chin. You spot the beauty mark on his neck and the smoothness of his skin, especially on his chest, as he leaves 2 buttons undone.

“Reading me now, Kim Namjoon?” You cock an eyebrow, trying to break the tension that’s built up in the last few minutes.

“I’m trying, because I want to get to know you more, find out what you’re afraid of and ease it somehow,” he admits. “Because I feel the same way. I’m honest but I’m scared, yet with you, I’m honest but I’m brave. I feel like I’m brave. I don’t know what it is, but ever since I met you, I just wanted…” he glances at your lips then meets your eyes again. “I just wanted to know more, to feel more. To understand what it’s like to be intimate with someone who doesn’t know much about it like me. I want to figure it out. With you.”

“How?”

One word is all you get to verbalize, as you feel him come closer, the heat of his body intensifying with every second. You’re backed up against the window, the distance between you and him decreasing and decreasing.

His eyes are boring into you, and you bravely gaze at him back. You mirror his desire, as you lick your lips when he glances at them again. Your chest is heaving as is his, and your heart races even more when he breathes out your name.

You palm his chest, and for a brief moment of uncertainty in his eyes at the thought of you stopping him, you instead grip the cloth that covers him, and you slowly pull him in.

His lips are soft. And the way he gently presses against you is tender, comforting, like he wants to savor it and go slow. He angles his head the same time his hand reaches for your waist, and you feel the slightest wetness from his tongue.

You grant him entrance, and the second you do, he takes control, tightening his hold on your body as he cages you, his one arm now propped up against the window. You moan into each other as tongues and teeth clash, and you can’t help your hand that travels to pull on the ends of his hair, brushing your fingers against the nape of his neck right after.

It’s a little sloppy, needy, but there’s still gentleness in there. It’s in the way he cups your cheek, caressing it with his large fingers and letting it slide down your chest, back to your waist. It’s in the way he smiles into the kiss when you moan your pleasure; you can almost feel his dimples as he does. It’s in the way that he asks for more, not with dominance but with care, with understanding, with caution.

You both pull away to catch some air, lips swollen and wet, but your smiles say you enjoyed it. The way your bodies haven’t completely detached from each other shows that.

“Would you let me stay the night?” He asks softly, as if it’s a request he’s afraid to ask.

“Yes,” you breathe out. “Be with me tonight.”

Underneath the covers of your bed, you lay in his arm while your fingers trace patterns on his taut chest. You can hear his heartbeat still drumming, and you can feel the care in the way he caresses your cheek, your arm, your waist.

“I don’t know what I can give you, Namjoon,” you admit. “I don’t know how to be as honest and vulnerable as you. I don’t know how to share parts of me that I don’t understand. I don’t know what I can do to ease all your worries and concerns. I—”

“Just give me moments,” he interjects. “Nights like this, days at our homes, afternoons at the galleries, hours on the phone… I just want to feel something that I can actually touch, that I can savor. And I want it to be you, the one I get to hold and taste and kiss.”

He leans forward again, and you capture his mouth in yours. There’s no need to do more - much as you’re wet and he’s definitely hard, but neither one of you is rushing, neither one wants to scare the other.

He’s hot, the kind that burns. That’s how it is with people as passionate as he is - their touch can light a fire on your skin, and you won’t be able to stop it.

“I can give you moments,” you whisper. “Just tell me.”

2022, spring

You can count the moments with 2 hands.

Namjoon stayed with his parents over the holidays but he videocalled you everyday. You both went to a few galleries outside the capital but did so separately, spending hours after that talking about the pieces over the phone.

You’ve come to appreciate your world much more deeply with his commentaries and reflections, and with you, he said he’d gotten to breathe a little longer, laugh a little louder, and feel a little more human.

He stayed over your place 4 more times; you stayed over at his thrice. You debated over movies and recommended each other books. It was common to spend the day wrapped up in each other on the couch while you both read separately. He made you listen to a few songs he’s been working on - some of which were inspired by your many conversations and your own musings, and you’d showed him sketches of your upcoming planned series on sculpted landscapes.

It’s freeing, being able to share about your world with someone else like this, and being part of someone else’s, too. Whatever it is you both have is freeing - kisses included, which never went beyond what you first did. Despite the obvious desire to do more, neither of you ever tried, perhaps knowing what it would entail. There’s distance between you and him but there also isn’t. There’s enough comfort and intimacy that you’ve only scratched the surface of, but this seems to be just enough.

“I have the weekend off,” he pants over the phone. It’s 11PM and they’ve just finished rehearsals for an upcoming series of concerts abroad. “Do you want to do something?”

“A trip to my parents’ summer home?” You wonder out loud. The spring air has come and you love going to the lake at this time. “It’s by the mountains and it’s really private. The estate is like their personal art museum with their works and others’. I visit every year. But if—”

“Yes, a hundred times yes,” he huffs. “That’s fucking amazing.”

“I know I got you at the art museum bit,” you laugh.

“You got me at the really private bit, actually,” he says seriously, causing your heart to race. “And the art of course. And you. Always you.”

“Alright, Casanova,” you tease. “Just make sure I don’t get in trouble for taking you somewhere weeks before you leave.”

“We’re alright,” he responds. “I can’t wait.”

It’s a 3-hour drive to the estate by the mountains. In the far future, your parents want to open it up for private viewing, and so you want to make sure that your art lover more-than-but-not-really-friend gets a first peek.

You spend the entire ride talking about a hundred topics, going off tangent when he rambles again, and you’re the one who circles him back to the original discussion. You hum tunes while he sings songs, and when you find private spots, you take the risk and take photos.

You make it to the estate in the late morning, and as you expected, Namjoon’s jaw drops.

The fountain at the front is an art piece itself. The front door was shipped from Indonesia, and the furniture are a beautiful curation of pieces from all over the world that were gifted to or bought by your parents.

You watch him gently trace the carvings and the details. You’re in awe as he absorbs the sculptures and paintings as you tour him around. And you melt every time he turns to you with the biggest smile on his face, like he’s discovering a secret that only both of you know. It’s breathtaking and absolutely precious.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he says, as he catches you marvel at him. “I like it when you look at me like you want me.”

“Don’t fluster me,” you say, turning away.

“You’re not denying it,” he counters, walking closer to you.

“I would be a liar if I did.”

“That’s good to know,” he hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know I only asked for moments but can this weekend be filled with that?”

He looks nervous, like you’d turn him down.

“I… it’s been tough, dealing with a lot of things,” he continues. He’s mentioned some difficulties lately, and you know there’s not much you can do about it. Except, maybe this. “I just want something to hold onto, like being here with you, experiencing all these art pieces, being close…”

He cups your cheek and gives you that look that you’ve become familiar with, his request for intimacy that you both continue to explore.

“Okay,” you respond, taking his hand and kissing it. “Okay.”

You eat lunch, explore the east wing of the property, and at mid-afternoon, you convince him to swim on the lake with you.

“Isn’t it freezing?” He asks worriedly.

“That’s the fun part of it,” you insist. “There’s a hot tub we can stay at after.”

Namjoon gives in. It’s easy to, with a smile like yours that makes his heart race every time. Especially when you come out in your blue swimsuit, shaping your curves and all other parts of your body that makes his own react. He can’t help but marvel at you, even as you tease.

“Hey, big guy, eyes up,” you smirk.

He blushes when you giggle, but he does tease back, removing his shirt to reveal his body that he’s been working so hard on. He does flex a little to give you a taste of your own medicine, and it works.

“Hey, eyes up,” he chuckles.

You feel a shiver when his finger tilts your chin up, and you do the childish thing and bite it before you run to the lake and dive in. Namjoon follows, canonballing and then swimming over to chase you.

You haven’t swam here in years. You merely used to watch the sun rise and then gaze at the sky and imagined doing all this with someone else. You didn’t really think you’d end up here with Kim Namjoon, but here you are.

Namjoon pulls you to him as you swim close, and you both float in the water with your arms around his chest and his arms around your waist. You’re obviously both drenched, and that just leaves so little to the imagination, especially with the cold water a little more overwhelming than you expected.

His hair is swept back, with beads of water lining his face and sliding down his neck and his chest. He’s broad and incredibly built. It’s unfair that his body looks as amazing as his face.

“Does Minji know you’re here with me?” He asks.

“Yes, teased me nonstop until I picked you up. What about the guys?”

“They do. They insist we are a couple.”

“And?”

“And I said that we aren’t,” he says cautiously. “We’re friends who spend a lot of time together and cuddle, and uh, sometimes do a little more.”

“What a complicated way to say we’re friends with benefits,” you laugh.

“I don’t see it that way, though,” he furrows his brows. “I don’t want to reduce what we are to each other to just benefits or something sexual or shallow. Do you see it that way?”

“No,” you say. “I… I’ve come to understand art a lot more because of you. I’ve come to appreciate what I do. That’s not just some benefit.”

“And I… can’t even explain all that you do for me,” he says. “We’re more than that. Less than lovers, but more than friends. And our moments shape this, whatever name we call it.”

“Untitled,” you wonder out loud. “Sometimes artists name their pieces as such when they can’t find a better descriptor.”

“So 58 sculptures in, and you still can’t find a better descriptor?” He teases.

“Shut up,” you smack his hard chest. “I titled them that way because I didn’t have a meaning for them. I just created them. But then I met this man, tall and built with a sexy brain, and he made me realize that the meaning is in the creation, too. So 58 works, 58 times I experienced intimacy, the only times I do.”

“Ah, so what about us?” He nudges you with his nose. “Aren’t we intimate?”

“It’s a different kind, I guess,” you say. You’re not my creation and you’re not mine, you choose not to say. “You don’t break. You’re the one that breaks other things.”

You pass it off as a joke, and he buys it. You don’t want to think much about what you and Namjoon aren’t; you just want to think about what you both are - something that may or may not be fleeting, but something beautiful nonetheless.

The sun shines a little too bright, and you take the chance to get out of the water and into the dock to soak up its heat. Namjoon follows and you both lay that way, just next to each other, catching your breaths.

“Are you feeling a little better?” You ask, wondering if he still carried over all his concerns here.

“Yes. It’s exhilarating,” he responds. “It’s nice to feel this way for a change.”

“I’m sure you’ve felt this way before, too.”

“Not this way,” he turns to you. “It’s different, I guess. It makes me think of all the other emotions I have yet to feel, the ones I’ve felt only briefly before, and the ones that I’ll never feel. I think life’s too short for a person to experience all kinds of emotions. I was it wasn’t.”

“Are humans built for that?” You question. “To feel every possible thing out there? To feel every variation of pain and sadness and joy and elation and pleasure and desire?”

Namjoon thinks. Surely, being able to have emotions and to truly feel is what makes us humans and what makes us different from animals. It’s what marks our humanity, regardless of what emotion that may be. But are humans really capable of feeling everything without breaking? Without it being too much?

“Maybe not,” he finally responds.

You think, too. You’ve often wondered why you were so scared to be vulnerable, to take risks, to love. You thought once that feeling things is overwhelming - what do you do with them? How do you handle them when they get too much? When you become too happy or too sad or too scared or too excited?

You think maybe because like all things in this world, you can never have emotions. You feel them, but you can’t own them, they can’t be yours. Like your art. You can create them but they stop being yours once you share them. Like music, as Namjoon has told you, it stops being his the moment he releases it for others to consume. And it’s scary to not have that permanence; it’s scary to not have that assurance that you’ll always have that joy or that excitement or that elation. And in some way, it’s also scary to know that you won’t always have that pain or that sadness.

“Maybe humans are only built to try to feel everything,” Namjoon states, having thought about your question and his years-long quest of figuring himself out. “But we aren’t meant to achieve it. Maybe our life is about just feeling bits and pieces of it, sometimes longer than others, but we can’t feel it all, and definitely not all at once. It’s like truth; we spend our life seeking and trying to live it, but we might never be able to. Still, we have to keep trying.”

“Hmm,” is all you manage to say. “Do couples have deep conversations like this?” You laugh this time, needing his thoughts to linger a little longer.

“They should,” he laughs. “But it’s enough for me that I have someone like you to make me question things. It reminds me that I have more to discover, to feel.”

To feel.

Sometimes Namjoon makes it seem so easy to just do that. He’s able to name what he feels, unlike you. You wish it was easy, like saying that the cold water on your skin is refreshing, like the sun’s heat is comforting, like the clouds in the sky are soft.

You don’t notice your hand reaching up, wanting to just touch them because you want something concrete, something more real than what your imagination says that clouds feel like. But instead, you feel rough, warm fingers interlocking with yours.

“If you want to feel something concrete, I’m here, you know?” Namjoon says, thumbing your hand to let him know he’s right next to you. Somehow he just knew what you were doing, what you were wishing for.

“But this is what couples do,” you tease, yet tightening your hold nonetheless.

“Friends hold hands,” he smirks.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They kiss, too,” he hums, lifting himself up only to hover over you, catching you by surprise, but your desire trumps that, as the view of him - damp and natural-looking - makes your insides twist in circles.

“Hmm, like this?” You peck his lips, then his nose, teasing him.

“Sometimes. Other times it’s deeper. You know, like this.”

He dives in, and you welcome him immediately, your mouth already slightly open for your tongue to entangle with his. It’s long and deep, as how your kisses always are, and you feel him shift above you, fixing his position with his arms caging your head for support. He angles his mouth so he can have more of you and control how far he goes, how hard, and how fast.

Your fingers, whose spaces were filled by his just minutes ago, ghost over his neck. They trail down to his chest, gingerly passing by his pecs and his abs, the tips now resting on his hips.

“Fuck,” he moans in your mouth, and you immediately know why he does, feeling his length getting harder by the second.

It prompts him to grind on you, and you meet him halfway.

“Fuck, Joon,” you whine once his lips detach from yours, only to meet your neck when he sucks then licks over the sting. “Fuck.”

He hums in satisfaction at the sounds you make, going south now as he teases by giving tender kisses on the exposed part of your breasts before biting your nipple over your suit.The obscene sound you make turns him on, especially when you pull his hips harder against yours.

“Oh fuck, baby, yeah,” he groans in your ear now, and you might as well have just come from the way he said those words.

And then you remember where you are - in the outdoors, in your parents’ summer home. Private as it may be, you’re still exposed, and you remind him of the fact before he slows down and agrees that you can’t be doing this out here.

“I’m sorry I got carried away,” he says shyly now, as if he didn’t just devour you with his skillful mouth.

“Yeah, this is totally your fault,” you tease.

He chases you back to the house where you both spend another hour in the hot tub, just talking like normal friends, as if you didn’t almost just cross a line. But it’s like that with Namjoon, you’ve come to realize. Everything is easy, everything is natural, like you can just forget that he isn’t him and you aren’t you.

You spend the rest of the day looking at all the pieces on the first floor, with you sharing as much about them that you can remember. You both sleep that night with his head on your chest and his arms around you.

He sleeps soundly, snoring even. And as you comb his hair, you think of how close you were to wanting so much more in the lake earlier. You think of how much you wanted his lips on your mouth, all over your body, and you wanted it everyday. With the way he held you close and breathed desperately on your skin, you had a feeling that so did he.

Living in this dream-like state with him feels surreal, several months in. Because that’s what he is - a dream. Here’s a man grounded by his principles despite the fame that seems to shackle him, yet constantly propels him to new heights; a man whose search for truth and humanity shows you that he just wants to be a good person, and a person who does good.

Beyond his unmatched talent and gift with words, beyond his strikingly stunning looks, is a man who cares deeply, who feels deeply, who submits himself to what he commits to, whether it’s his music, his brothers, his plants, or his interest in art and nature and even whiskey. You have a feeling he’d do the same to whoever he plans to be with. You don’t know if it’s you, and the more you find yourself wanting him, the more you wish it isn’t you.

Namjoon is a dream, and you know at one point, you’re going to have to wake up.

The gallery is buzzing, as it always is when there’s a new exhibition. You’re excited for this, too, as the featured artist is one you admire.

Namjoon admires her as well, which is why he’s here, dressed in a black long-sleeved buttoned top, looking immaculate as per usual. He has a busy schedule but he made time, knowing how special this event is.

The room holds its breath when he enters; as a well-known lover of art, everyone has come to expect him to be a guest in exhibitions and various art shows. He bows at the other patrons and artists present, and they fawn over him, being the famous man that he is.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this side of him. You’re used to him rambling, making jokes he doesn’t realize are funny, and being lost in his own thoughts. You’re used to him in his natural environment - in his home full of books and paintings, and in his studio, which you’ve seen dozens of times through your phone screen. He fits right in here, though - he can easily follow on with the conversations, whether it’s about business or culture or literature. He can charm anyone with his smile and his good looks, and too many times, guests awe at his presence, finding out that he’s much more commanding and handsome off the screen.

You hide a smile as he glances in your direction. You’ve agreed not to talk much today; there are too many people around and any kind of interaction might be grounds for rumors that neither of you are ready to face, at least that’s what you think. You and Namjoon don’t really discuss those things. You always see him in your periphery, though, and perhaps just like you, he just wants to be where you are, even if no pleasantries or conversations are shared.

But Mr. Hong pulls him aside to introduce to Ms. Suh, and you can see from afar how Namjoon is fanboying over the artist whose work he’s very interested in.

It’s nice to see him in his element like this, too. Here, though still a celebrity in the eyes of everyone else, he’s a spectator. He’s told you several times how his trips to these places have made him think about the kind of legacy he wants to leave with his music, with his poetry. And how pieces in museums and galleries are timeless, permanent; they live on regardless, and each person is free to make their own meanings. You know he wanted to comfort you then.

You become involved in your own conversations until someone barrels inside the gallery and makes a scene, of all days. The slightly inebriated man is familiar; perhaps a patron you’ve seen before, but he comes in and starts yelling at the staff, going on about something you can’t understand.

Not wanting to be part of the scene and be involved in something you don’t know how to handle, you slowly step away, that is, until you see him storm towards the room where your art pieces are. He seems to be targeting someone as he looks around, but the security gets to him first and he flails his arms around, eventually knocking over Untitled 56, and the cracking sound rings in the entire building.

“You knocked over a precious piece, you bastard!” You hear Mr. Hong yelling.

You start walking slowly to where you see the shards of ceramic have fallen on the floor, and you’re unsure what you feel. Is it loss? It doesn’t seem like it. Is it anger? Perhaps not.

“It’s just some useless flower anyway,” the raucous man answers.

Shame. You think that’s it, maybe that’s the feeling. Insecurity, sadness. It’s all of that yet nothing at all.

You stand there over your broken piece, the one you created while the rain was pouring and you’d just finished a bottle of wine by yourself because you could. Everyone seems to be as shocked as you, especially with the man finally contained and led out the building. You look up to take your eyes away from the scene, but you see Namjoon’s instead - anger filling his, sympathy, care, all at once.

You shake your head once, instructing him not to say or do anything. And he follows, loosening his clenched fist and stepping away to the back of the crowd. You instruct the staff to sweep the broken piece away, not wanting to see how fragile and temporary your creation is. All that had been reduced to shards and pitiful looks of the crowd.

You don’t really want to be here.

You’re filled with emotions you can’t name. You’re afraid to feel them all, so you cower on your couch and cry to yourself.

It’s just a piece of useless flower. It’s the 56th of untitled works that you couldn’t name yourself because you didn’t know what they meant, what they symbolized, yet it hurts you this much that it’s gone. Hurt. Is that it? You’re still not sure.

The banging of your front door startles you. It’s 9PM and it’s been 4 hours since the incident. Minji offered to tell you the whole story but you didn’t really mind. You wonder if it’s her this time, wanting to know how you’re doing.

But it’s Namjoon, panting on your doorway when you open it. And the first thing you think to do is bury yourself in his arms.

It’s immediate, the catharsis of being in his hold. It’s like you’re enveloped in a warm, protective blanket that you don’t want to get out of. He embraces you tightly, letting you cry on his chest as you try to make sense of what you’re feeling.

“I’ve got you,” he says in your ear so that the words don’t get lost in the sound of your sobs. “I’ve got you. Don’t tear yourself. I’m here with you.”

You don’t know for how long you both stand there, but it’s long enough for the tears to stop falling. When you’ve calmed down, Namjoon tilts your chin up to face him.

“Hey,” he greets with a soft smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t follow you right away. I wanted so badly to punch that man.”

The shift of emotions is immediate, as you see his furrowed brows.

“He didn’t have a right to be there and to ruin what you worked hard for. I asked Mr. Hong to look into him and I’m so sorry, ___. That piece… that piece is–”

“A useless flower,” you shake your head.

“Please don’t listen to him. Listen to me,” Namjoon insists. “You know what I feel about it. That piece led me to you.”

“And now it’s gone.”

The thought hits you hard. That piece led you to each other, and temporary as it is, it’s now broken. Maybe art isn’t timeless, you think. It can burn, it can break, just like all things. Just like emotions. Just like what you and Namjoon have.

“It may be but look what it did for us,” he challenges your thoughts. “A broken piece won’t change us, it won’t erase us.”

Tonight, this is what you want to hear. And with his fingers tracing your cheek, you think that tonight, he is what you want to feel.

You pull him close and crash your mouth onto his. It’s fervent, desperate, wanting. There’s this need in you, this animalistic desire that has you wanting him to prove you wrong again - that some things can be touched and felt and that they’ll stay and won't break, that emotions can be just as real and tangible, that they matter and that it’s worth it. You want him to prove it to you with his mouth, his words, his touch, his body.

He answers back, inhaling you completely, his tongue working on yours right away, doing that dance you’ve both memorized by now. Your moans are loud and needy. You want all of him, all over you, and with the way he groans your name and curses as you grind against him, you think he feels the same.

You’re in a haze, falling into hypnosis as you feel his hands all over you. You guide them to your clothed breasts, down your waist where he sneaks underneath. His touch burns so deliciously, and it’s what prompts you to unbutton his clothes, to feel him bare and naked, his skin against yours - raw, vulnerable, honest.

Things you don’t know how to be.

You pull away, feeling as if you’ve been snapped out of the spell.

And then you’re crying, as you look at Namjoon with his top undone, looking at you curiously before he’s walking towards you in concern.

“No,” you almost scream. “I’m sorry, I– I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t supposed to. We’re not supposed to do this. We’re just… we’re just something that’s temporary and–”

“No,” he replies, surprising you. “Don’t be sorry, please. I wanted it, I still do. I want you. Fuck what we said about being just friends. I want more. I–”

“You don’t mean that,” you insist, not wanting to hear his words.

It should comfort you, shouldn’t it? You’ve known long ago that you’ve fallen for him, but you made yourself believe that all things are temporary, and this one time you wanted something permanent with him, you got scared out of your mind.

“I do,” he counters. “Fuck it, all I wanted to do earlier was hold you in my arms. Fuck the other people around who’d see. I just wanted to be with you. Is that what friends do? Is that what they feel? I have to be honest, right? We said we’d be that to each other. I want you, ___. I want to be with you.”

“I can’t, Joon. I can’t,” you sob.

“Be honest with me this once. Do you want me?”

“Yes, so fucking much.”

“Then why can’t you be with me? Why are you making it so hard for yourself, for us?” He yells.

“I–” you start, but you don’t know how to continue. You cover your face with your hands and fall onto the floor.

You don’t think you’ve ever cried this hard, and you’re unsure exactly what you’re crying over.

“Hey,” Namjoon softens, leaning down next to you as he tries to free your face. “I’m not mad, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t even… I can’t even say what I want to say because I don’t know. I don’t–” you sniff. “I don’t know what I feel, what I want. I–”

“It’s okay,” he says, taking you in his arms again. “It’s okay. We can talk about it tomorrow. Just get some rest.”

He calms you down again and leads you to your room. He waits as you wash up and then he tucks you in bed.

“I’ll come over in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You watch him eye your lips, and then he looks away.

Namjoon comes over the next day with a basket of pastries and coffee. He knows enough that you won’t have energy to prepare anything to eat.

You can’t imagine losing all this, but that’s what’s about to happen.

You’d been so close to giving in to him, so close to letting yourself be vulnerable to him, but doing so in flesh isn’t all there is to it. You can make love to him, bare your body to him that way but you wouldn’t be able to do it with your soul or your heart.

What does being raw and honest mean? You don’t know. He deserves someone who knows.

“I still don’t know what I can give you,” you tell him as you both sit across from each other in the seating area in your garden. “Months later, I should know but I don’t. Even just moments, I… can’t. They make me want you more and I can’t. I don’t know exactly what I want - with myself, with my art, with you. I don’t know what to give.”

“You act like you’re the only one unsure,” he says softly. “I don’t know if what I can give you is enough. I mean, with what I do? It’s tough, and I don’t know if it would be fair. But I want you. I don’t know how the arrangements would be but I want you.”

“At least you know what you can give, even as you shine as bright as you do, you know yourself and what you can give me, what you can give us. I don’t.”

“But what if we try?”

“That’s unfair to you, Joon,” you insist. “You put your all into everything, and this - us - won’t be any different. But that just means that falling short would break you, and I can’t have that. And then there’s me who can’t give much of herself to anything - not my craft, not my friends, not myself. And you matter too much to only get the barest parts of me. I don’t want to be with you that way.”

Namjoon sighs. It’s not an easy thing to accept. It’s something he understands - all he’s ever known to do was to give his all to everything he wants to keep. If that’s not something you’re ready to do yourself, he can’t fault you for it.

It hurts so fucking much, though. He’s learned in the course of these months of knowing you that you’re another one of those he wants to keep, that he wants more of, that he wants to learn inside and out - you’re also the first person to ever be that for him. For you to slip away like this is a kind of pain that he doesn’t know how to get over.

“Continue to be raw and honest in everything that you do, okay? Live,” you say, and he nods in reply. “Don’t stop yourself from seeing other people, from finding someone else,” you add.

You can’t even be honest with this. You hope he’ll always want you, but you don’t let yourself be selfish with him, not this time.

“I won't” is what he answers.

It breaks your heart all over again and you let it. You deserve it. Who walks away from someone they want, especially when they want you back? Someone afraid like you, someone who doesn’t trust herself enough like you, someone who wants permanence so bad that she lets slip away the one person who’s made her feel it.

You give a half smile and he smiles back.

Namjoon gets up from his seat. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s a month later when one of the museums you frequent launches a new installation. A tall man catches your attention. He looks at you and smiles, his hazelnut eyes gazing at you the way they used to.

He nods in acknowledgement and so do you.

And that’s the last time you see him in a long time.

2022, winter

You stare at the package in your hands - white, with words of comfort. He’s finally completed it, you think. A piece of himself he’s been working the last 4 years on, and it looks just like how he described it to you all those months ago.

You don’t know if you’ll listen to it. You haven’t heard his voice in so long. You’re afraid you’ll break if you do.

Perhaps just one time, to get it off your system. That might be enough.

You open it, unsure when you’ll unpack this obviously beautifully curated work of art. But the note at the top leaves you no room to ignore it.

Nothing’s changed for me. Let’s find ourselves. And then let’s find each other. I’ll just be here. But please, stay where you are.

Namjoon

You let one tear fall and then leave the package on the top shelf of your closet.

Your bedroom door opens.

“Are you all packed?” Minji asks.

“Yes, I’m all good,” you smile.

She helps you with your luggage, down the stairs and into the van waiting for you.

“That’s a lot of stuff,” she hums, holding back her tears. “How long will you be away for?”

“Until I find myself.”

“That might be a long time.”

“It will.”

2025, winter

Namjoon has been to several galleries in New York, but this particular one is a place he’s never been to. It overlooks Central Park, towering at the 30th floor like the other buildings in the city. But it’s 3 floors and he thinks it’s stunning. It’s not overly grand, but it’s also not as simple and natural like the others he’s been to.

He may say it’s not entirely his vibe, but there’s a reason why he’s here.

Some patrons recognize him and greet him. He bows in response, engaging in small talk when he needs to, but stepping away to get to the exhibition he flew here to see.

It’s nothing like what he expected, although years later, he doesn’t know what to expect anymore.

The first thing is, well, it’s titled. There’s a year and a description, too.

2023, swing in the summer home

The piece is beautiful, made in clay and metal. It’s familiar, too. He’s seen this on a lake house by the mountains, over 3 years ago.

2023, the piece that lost its meaning

It’s a painting, but one placed atop a sculpted frame hanging on a wall in what seems like a living room. This scene feels familiar as well.

2024, lost youth

A group of children look up at a plane, with opened suitcases and toys on the floor. The nostalgia hits him.

The rest of the sculptures are new to him. There’s one about a lady in red, one of a neighbor, one of a woman with an umbrella and clouds, aptly titled, what am i hiding from? Further down the room, the emotions become more pointed, straightforward, and a lot more focused.

2023, coward

2024, i truly was sorry

2025, is this what regret feels like?

2025, i hope you knew i lied

2025, maybe someday

Someone from the outside who knows nothing about the artist might think that the pieces are a little over the place, although one can tell from the titles that they tell a story. The sculptures are made from the same materials - clay and metal, all free standing and in similar sizes. Each caption holds a narration, and all Namjoon can read are words describing emotions, of states of being - innocence, anger, confusion, fear, loss, regret, loneliness, pain, hope, and few more.

There’s not much about joy or intimacy, though, and the thought saddens him. He had hoped that by this time, you already knew how those felt.

“So, what do you think?”

Namjoon didn’t think he’d ever hear that voice again. He’d cry if he could, especially as he turns to his side and finds you, dressed in a classy, aegean blue satin dress. Your smile is one he’s missed so much, and he wishes he could frame this moment, just so he doesn’t forget. He almost did, and he hated himself when he took so long to remember how you sounded like, how you looked like.

“Nothing like I imagined,” Namjoon replies. “In a good way.”

“I scrapped previous works and experimented with these ones. It took me years to complete,” you explain. “I almost stopped at one point, wondering if anybody would ever get it but then I figured, it didn’t matter. It’s a good thing that lifestyle magazine reached out for a feature. I think that was Mr. Hong pulling some strings. At least I got to say that for years, I didn’t know what I was doing, who I was, but now I do.”

“That’s how I knew about it, actually,” Namjoon hums. “It was in the art gallery because he was giving it away for free. It said your exhibition was here, so I flew in.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “I thought you had a show or filming.”

“Nah,” Namjoon sighs. “I came here for you. Otherwise I wouldn’t know where to find you, or how else to see you. You stopped… you stopped showing up. You just disappeared.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

It’s all you can say, really. You didn’t expect to see him here, but when you saw a familiar face enter through the doors, your heart stopped. You had a feeling Mr. Hong had told Namjoon about your exhibition - your first in 4 years. But nothing would have prepared you for this - seeing him again after you walked away from the one good thing you found in your life. You watched him from afar as he went through each of your pieces, perhaps savoring them, remembering them.

“Have you been well?” He asks, the concern still overpowering everything.

“I have.”

“You seem to have lost someone,” he says, nodding towards one of the pieces. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“She was my neighbor when I spent 8 months in Sweden,” you share. “She took care of me but then she passed away due to an accident. It was hard for a while.”

“I–” Namjoon reaches out his hand - for comfort, perhaps - but he brings it down. “I wish I knew.”

“It’s okay. And I’m okay. It’s been a year, but I wouldn’t have finished all this without her.”

You’d forgotten how silence sounded like with Namjoon, and you want to remember what it was like. You remember a lot of things, actually, like his laughter, his voice, his smile, the feel of his lips on yours, and many others.

“How long are you here for?” You finally ask, as you both walk side-by-side past the rest of the artworks inside, with a bit of distance between you.

“I’m here for 3 more days.”

“I stay at the hotel next to the building,” you say, being bold. “I leave here in 2 hours.”

You fumble for your room key and discreetly hand it over to him. “3802, if you want to. I have more to say, and I– uh, shit. If you’re seeing someone, forget what I said.”

“I’m not,” he answers. “I’ll be there.”

Namjoon watches the city from your full-wall window, wondering when you’d decide to finally speak beyond a greeting. It’s been 10 minutes since he arrived at your suite with the key you gave him, and you haven’t said anything since then.

“The buildings aren’t the same here,” you finally say. “I’ve been here for 3 months and the sounds of the cars are too loud, there’s too much smoke, people don’t smile… I don’t have anyone here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I decided to finish some of my pieces in the city. I’ve been staying at one of my parents’ apartments not far from here.”

“And where were you before that?”

“Puerto Rico, Greece, Sweden,” you answer.

“When I said to find ourselves, I didn’t think you’d actually leave, and then not tell me about it,” he laments. “I knew it was stupid to wish you’d stay close. You weren’t in any of the places where I used to see you, where we used to go. I… I asked around but they said you haven’t visited in so long.”

“I couldn’t stay,” you try to explain. “I couldn’t because it just meant waiting for you to come even if I was the one who walked away. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to find myself in a place where I’d always be looking for you, and so I had to go. I’m so sorry, Joon. I–”

You drop the hand that reaches out to him, unsure if your touch would still be welcome. You clench your fist to stop yourself from doing it again, but he notices. He notices and takes your hand, uncurls it so he can hold it properly.

“How was it being away?”

“It was good. Hard. Terrifying,” you share. “I experienced a lot of new, fun things. I learned a lot. Made a lot of mistakes, too. I met so many people. I–”

“Were you with anyone?” he asks, turning away briefly.

“No, I… I couldn’t bring myself to,” you answer nervously. “And you?”

“No one since you. There was a reason why I asked you to stay right there, so that I knew where to find you.”

“You still found me, 3 years later, on the other side of the world.”

“I had to know if anything’s changed for you. I had to know if you made it, if you found what you were looking for. I had to know if you were happy. But you didn’t create it. There was no piece for it.”

“I found what I was looking for,” you say, looking into his eyes, glancing at his fingers that are softly exploring yours. “I realized that I could only gain whatever permanence I was looking for if I learned to let them go. Because if they come back, they stay. I walked away from you then, and I had to lose myself to all the emotions that I was so scared to feel. And I felt a lot of them, Joon. I felt a lot of things. I was going to go back home after this. But you came to me first. You’re the one always finding me. That hasn’t changed.”

“I suppose it hasn’t,” he cracks a smile. “Did I take too long?”

“You were right on time,” you say. “I would’ve come for you in a few days though. But I’m glad you’re here so that I can tell you that I can finally have this. I can finally give you everything without being scared, without it breaking me, without it ruining the ones I love.”

“Is that what you feel for me?”

“Yes. I guess I did then. I still do now.”’

There’s uncertainty in your voice, perhaps due to the fear of him no longer returning what you feel.

“I found myself, too,” he says. “I figured out what I wanted to do for myself, what more I can give, what more I desired. And I guess you’re right. That permanence can come from losing something and then having them back. And then having them stay. So many times then I regretted that I wasn’t more honest. That I was denying what I felt for you because I was scared of losing what little of a normal life I was afforded. I wished I told you much earlier, but I guess things happen when they do, right?”

“Right, but you can also say them again now.”

“That I want you close, holding my hand, tracing my skin, kissing me? That I want all that everyday?” He smiles, as he pulls you towards him and places your hand on his chest. “That I want everything from you? That I haven’t stopped thinking of you, wishing for you?”

“Yes,” you say, sighing into the kiss you’ve missed too much.

There’s that tenderness you expected, but the desire is unlike the times before. There’s more confidence now, more security in the way his mouth moves against yours. It’s as if he knows that he’ll always have this. That this time, he’s loving you in more than words, and that you’ve come back, and that you’ll stay.

Namjoon presses you against the wall, lets his lips trace down your neck and your chest. He undresses you, remarks that he’s starting to believe in a higher being who created a body like yours, and then proceeds to mouth more praises down your thighs and in between them.

He takes you slowly, amorously. He watches your face contort in pure pleasure, and you mention needing to add a piece for this, too. The way he goes in and out of you is out of this world, and you never want it to end.

You’d think it’s the intimacy you didn’t know how to feel. But it’s more than that. In fact, you find that in being with Namjoon, the intimacy is in everything - the way he holds your hand, the way he wraps his arm around you, the way he lets you bite his arm and tickle him just for fun. It’s in the way he kisses your forehead before he kisses your lips.

It’s in your bike rides together and watching the river whenever you catch a glimpse of it. It’s in your moments of calm - reading books, writing songs, sketching.

It’s in the deep, tender way that he says he loves you.

You don’t have a piece for this yet. Perhaps it’s another series altogether. Perhaps it’ll require an installation.

Or maybe, this is the one emotion you don’t need to put into art, the one that you’ll keep for yourself to hold onto because no clay and metal mixture, no tangible piece, could ever describe what this love and intimacy feels like.

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#namjoon fic #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #idol au #idol namjoon #namjoon fanfic #jim namjoon #namjoon x you #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon oneshot #untitled

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pynkgothicka · 1 year

Text

２１ＫＮＪ

Synopsis - Your brothers ex best friend stays with you while he gets back on his feet.

Pairing - Yandere! Kim Namjoon x Fem! Reader

Tags and Warnings - Dark themed, violence

Authors Note - This took me so long my god.

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

“Its just for a bit, just until Joon gets back on his feet.” You followed behind your brother as he rushed to clean up your shared apartment. He'd just told you that he invited Namjoon, his friend since middle school, to stay at your place. “Besides you always liked him as a friend what makes this so different?”

“Its not him. It's just that I don't like having my space invaded, besides I haven't seen him in years!” You said finally standing still. The doorbell had rung and you were expected to get it. You show one last glare at your brother before going to the door and peering through the hole.

A dark haired male smiled back at you, eyes almost closed as he beamed at you. “Who is it?” You sung out in a sort of tune of inquiry.

“Uhh Kim Namjoon!”

You unlocked the door pulling it open, Namjoon now towering over you. He only got more attractive then you remembered. He wore a dark denim jacket and a pair of jeans. “Hey man!” Your brother said pushing last you, giving his ex best friend a huge hug.

“Thanks for having me, even though we're not as close anymore.” Namjoon said sheepishly. “And who is this?” Namjoon asked pointing at you. “You finally got a girlfriend or something?”

Did he really not recognize you?

“Ew gross, man that's my sister. I know you remember her.” Your brother quickly corrected.

Namjoons face quickly dropped at his mistake before he placed a hand on his face, turning to you almost annoyed in himself.

“I'm so sorry! I didn't even recognize you. It's been so long.”

“Its no biggie, honestly your alrig-” You were cut off as Namjoon walked past your brother and pulled you in for a tight hug. His newfound strength nearly suffocated you, his earthy scent infiltrating your senses.

“Once again super sorry.” Namjoon apologized one more time before pulling himself away from you. You smiled at him before leaving for the two to catch up.

Hopefully you could just avoid Namjoon during his stay.

#️⃣

“What you doing?”

You jumped at the voice booming behind you. Sat at your desk, you were patching up your brothers work shirt.

“Patching up some clothes, what's up?” You asked getting back to your work. Namjoon went to your bed and sat down, black hair messily on his head. You didn't look at

“Cool cool… So your brother told me your 21 now right?”

“Yeah… What brought you guys to that conversation?”

“I was asking about you, since I didn't remember you by looks. And with your brother a big working man, I want to have someone to talk to while I'm here.” Namjoon said as you shifted uncomfortably benath his gaze. You could feel his eyes glued onto your work.

“Your needlework is amazing…” You heard in your ear. Heat instantly rose to your head as you sheepishly laughed.

“Thank you. You can come watch if you really want too.” Why did you say that? Almost as if he heard your wishes, he pulled up your small chair and sat down watching you work.

It was intimate.

And that intimacy was something you cherished.

#️⃣

It'd been around a month with having Namjoon stay with you and your brother. It was going smoother than expected. You could talk to the literal giant of a man almost like you were his ex best friend.

Namjoon could talk for hours. One of his main things he reflected on was art. But sometimes he'd talk about his future and, surprisingly, It was actually nice to hear him talk about it with such optimism.

“I want a traditional life style… but without the misogyny.” Namjoon told you while you were cleaning the small kitchen. You let out a small chuckle at his humor. “I just want me, my wife, and maybe a few kids. She'd stay at home and just be happy, not trapped. Just happy, happily waiting for me to walk through that front door and we'd just talk. Then we'd go to bed and just be happy.”

The way he was so passionate about what he wanted really drew you into him. “It's untarnished and pure.” You added quickly looking away. You caught Namjoons gaze as he watched you finish your cleaning.

“Yeah… Thats exactly what I mean.” Namjoon mumbled now full on staring at you. “Hey you wanna go get something to eat?”

“Umm why?” You ask dropping the towel you were using back in the sink. “Not to be rude, I just want to know what's the occasion!” You said voice peeking towards the end of the sentence. Namjoon laughed grabbing his keys in front of him.

“I mean not like we cooked at all today so let's go eat out. My treat.”

#️⃣

You eventually did accept to go out with him to dinner. So Namjoon treated you to pizza, and made your own makeshift picnic in the park.

“So why are you staying with us?” You asked pulling a slice of pizza from the rest. Namjoons face dropped for a moment before he sighed.

“It's my parents, something happened between me and them. We'd been fighting alot recently, and and I couldn't deal with it anymore. So I left. Then I realized I needed a place to stay, and I remembered your brothers number, so got in contact and here I am.”

You couldn't have been more sympathetic of his current situation. You wished you could be there more for him but he was vague for a reason, and maybe you shouldn't pry. After he went silent, eyes straying from your own, you decided to speak up.

“Well, I'm glad your here. You've really brightened up me and my brothers lives. To say you didn't recognize me at first.” You both laughed, Namjoon shaking his head. “But seriously stay as long as you need too. I don't mind you being here, in fact I prefer it. I'd rather it be just you and me at home. Which is way better than it being just me at home by myself.”

Namjoon perked up excitely. His body language shifted almost entirely, breathing now a tad bit deeper. “You do… you just seemed so reserved .”

“I just think you're cool and easy to talk too. I really like you Namjoon.”

Namjoons face shifted from one of comfort to one of shock, then to a weird mixture of both. He moved his stray hand to your own, thumb rubbing on the top of it. You began to heat up, and leaned into his touch. His body coming closer than ever. Your eyes looked at the setting sun, the violet hues of the night sky.

“Isn’t this nice?” Namjoon said, his head sitting on top of yours.

“Yeah… It is. I don’t want it to end ever.”

#️⃣

You made it back to your apartment, having gotten closer than ever with Namjoon. You fished for your house mey out of your pocket. Then you opened the door, holding Namjoons hand to lead him in.

You then made it face to chest with your brother who stood by the door brandishing the gun that was given to him by your brother.

He took your forearm and jerked you away from Namjoon, who stood like a deer in headlights. “Hey dude don't grab her like that?” Namjoon began but he was

“You stay the fuck away from her. You make another move and I'll blow a hole in your chest.

“Whats wrong?” You said trying to pull away from your irrational brother. But his grip was vice and unrelenting.

“This fucking asshole lied. You've been staying with us to hide from the fucking police.” Your brother yelled in Namjoons facs, the end of the gun now in his chest. “I should've known not to trust you again, let alone let you anywhere near my sister.”

“Your overreacting. Dude she's a adult, and I didn't do anything…. Just let me inside.” Namjoons voice ever the calm. Your brother turned off the safety Intimidating Namjoon. But even you could see that your brothers grip was shakey.

“Tell me what is the problem…” You say, ending your struggle.

“He's been lying to us! I saw the news. Your parents are dead and your using us to hide.” Your brother yelled. Namjoons left eye ticked slightly. “I know what you are, dude your fucking ballistic. You fucking ended our friendship with your crazy ass decisions.”

“Shut up.” Namjoon seethed out.

“You with your rich ass parents ignored how you acted. You nearly killed a kid with your barehands. All over my sister… I thought you changed but your still that fucked up kid from long ag-”

“Shut the fuck up!”

You fell back as your brother was shoved forward, the gun flying out of the way. Your body hit the ground hard, as Namjoon began to punch your older sibling. His face began to bleed more, as blood flew on all three of you.

You went to grab at your brothers arm, trying to drag him away. “Leave him alone Joon! Stop!” You cried out as your brothers face was now caved in onto itself. The only thing on your mind was to try and spare him from death.

Finally things went silent as you watched your brothers chest stop, rising and falling. Namjoon still was punching at his chest and you crawled away looking behind you for the gun that flew.

Oh God he was going to kill you.

Namjoon stopped his eyes going directly to look at you. His dark hair stuck to his face and his usual denim was splattered in blood.

Your right hand finally touched the gun as you held it towards Namjoons now standing body. Your finger held onto the trigger, now suddenly your body was stiff. Namjoon had made it all the way towards you the gun still shakey.

He kneeled down, his hand moving the gun to his forehead. “Pull it. I know you want too. It's okay.”

And you did but nothing happened.

Namjoon laughed.

“I forgot I took out those bullets, that's something huh?”

#dark writing #tw dark content #tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere blog #knj fic #yandere kim namjoon #kim namjoon #bts yandere #yandere bts #Spotify

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kthyg · 2 years

Text

ghoul. — (training) (m)

[SECOND INSTALMENT OF GHOUL SERIES : TRAINING]

“I like it when you’re under me. The only place you will ever be is under me.”

Jimin and Jungkook decided they wanted to have an unplanned training session with you.

pairing : yandere jikook x reader

rating : M

genre : tokyo ghoul au, soulmate au, violence

disclaimer : this story is a work of fiction. descriptions of the BTS members in this story does not reflect nor portray them in real life. everything in this story only fits in imagination and does not apply outside of imagination.

warning : infliction of pain on woman (oc).

word count : 3.2k+

masterpost | masterlist | navigation

note from winter 💌 :

PLS IM WRITING THIS AS WE SPEAK: I WAS ABOUT TO MAKE JUNGKOOK LOOK DOWN ON MINGYU BUT THEN JUNGKOOK IS SHORTER THAN GYU IM SOBBVINF SO HARDDD so i decided to change the scene HAHAHAAHAHHAHAA

ok real note 📝

maybe i like jimin being rough. haha like

LIKE BRO HE CANT BE ALL SOFT HE HAS GOT TO LIKE TO INFLICT PAIN AND I WOULD GLADLY RECEIVE

💌 what is winter listening to? : 28 reasons by seulgi

dedication : to my sleep demon, you can fuck off now. ive written your shit down.

Another day at KCCG, Korea Commission of Counter Ghoul, the second branch of CCG that originated from Japan. An everyday reminder when Jimin stepped into the KCCG building. The logos of CCG and KCCG were designated next to each other looking very alike except that KCCG has an additional letter ‘K’ before the CCG. The emblems were blueish black in colour and an animal akin to a bird spreading its wings was embedded at the centre of the emblem respectively, and a few deep curves and details to make it look elegant.

“Jimin hyung.” A voice called.

He turned to the voice. “Jungkook.” His soulmate.

“Why the hard face?”

“The only thing that is hard right now is my dick, so if you don’t have any plans to help soften it down, then I suggest you go back to your office before I fuck you right here.”

“Vulgar,” the younger hissed. “I’m your superior. How dare you speak to me that way.”

“An inferior in bed,” Jimin mumbled nonchalantly.

“I’ll give away your mission in 1st ward to Investigator Rosè,” Jungkook retorted.

“I needn’t worry because she’s not fit for the mission, and you need Joon’s approval for that. 1st ward has always been assigned to me.” He said calmly.

“Namjoon hyung gives me green light for everything, so–”

“Gyu.” Your voice interrupted their conversation. It wasn’t too loud but given that their sense of hearing was very acute, even your softest voice could reach their ears.

You entered the building and with delighted steps, you skipped your way towards Kim Mingyu, Ghoul Investigator of Special Class. Jimin’s gaze followed your figure until you reached the male investigator. Jungkook didn’t miss the hard gaze but instead of asking what was wrong with Jimin, he found himself staring hard at your figure too or the situation.

Since when were you close with Mingyu?

“Good morning, lotus.” Mingyu greeted you with a soft, subtle kiss on the crown of your head.

“Morning,” you smiled, handing over a coffee to him. “Where’s Minghao?”

“Late as usual,” he sighed before taking a sip of the coffee, thanking you after. “Overslept maybe.”

“It’s fine, we can wait.” Sipping a bit of your coffee, you fished out a small device from your pocket. The device was a sphere in shape and floating. You let it float in the air as pressed the button on the device.

“You got a new SfereX?” Mingyu asked.

“Yes. The old one was destroyed during the mission at the 2nd ward.” You sighed.

As soon as you pressed the button, a hologram flashed in front of you. The technology inside the device resembled a laptop or tablet but an even more compact version. As the system loaded you to your home page, you pressed the reminder calendar.

“Today we have a training session with Minghao…” You spread your fingers as the hologram zoomed onto the details of the session. “Focusing on hand-to-hand combat.”

Mingyu nodded. “He needs that very much.”

You slapped his shoulder lightly. “Give him a little credit. He’s not that bad. He’s just so used to the use of weapons.”

Mingyu was about to speak up but as his eyes narrowed a bit over your shoulder, he noticed two figures approaching.

Two figures that, if possible, he always wanted to avoid.

“Ah, good morning, Director Jeon, Investigator Park.”

That caught you off guard.

Upon hearing your childhood friend’s name, your body went rigid, and your mind flew back to when you discovered that half of your files in the star folder were gone after you returned from Investigator Min’s office. You don’t have proof that it was Jimin that deleted your files. Of course, you could walk into the security room and check the CCTVs, but you went against that idea because as much as you wanted to fight for your justice, you knew Jimin would do anything and everything to deny your claim.

Quickly turning around, you bowed. “Good morning.”

Jimin zeroed his attention on you as he spoke. “Training session with me and Investigator Jeon at combat room 2. In 5 minutes.”

“But I have–”

“Are you defying your superior, (Y/N)?”

Your eyes flickered at the sudden use of authority. “No, that’s not it…”

Mingyu saw the hesitation in your eyes as you struggled to find the right word. Maybe it was due to the difference in rank and the intimidation Jimin held because you were not one to hesitate. “Park, she has a scheduled training session with me.” He emphasised the word ‘scheduled’. “Please be considerate and respectful of others’ time.”

“Investigator Kim,” Jimin turned his body to fully face him. His face was devoid of emotions. “Before anything, (Y/N) is under me. Whatever changes made are effective immediately regardless of your opinion.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you are disturbing my line of work by messing up my schedule, Investigator Park.” Mingyu refused to back away.

“That’s enough.” Jungkook finally voiced out.

He has been standing next to Jimin all while his gaze was on you. Breaking his intense gaze, he continued. “I instigated the training session. I believe you won’t have any problem with me doing so, right, Investigator Kim?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “If you’re trying to use your rank and force me to submission, I’d suggest you stop, Director Jeon.”

“Kim Mingyu.” You could see Jimin’s jaw tightened as soon as he let out the stern call.

You really didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s morning especially yours. “Gyu, it’s fine. We can reschedule.” You told him.

“It’s not fine. This doesn’t only affect me,” His eyes that were on the two guys in front of him were now on you. A wave of pity – or maybe concern – was seen. “But it also affects you.”

You knew what his next sentence would be.

“(Y/N), how–” How long are you going to tolerate being stepped on by these bunch of fucked up higher-ups?

And you didn’t have it in you to respond to that question yet.

“The training will take 2 hours at most. I’ll be available by noon and you’re free at that hour too.” You pinched the hologram after checking the reminder calendar and clicked the button to switch off the device.

“Moreover, your student has yet to arrive, no?” Jungkook directed his question to Mingyu. “Technically, I can take up (Y/N)’s schedule at this very moment because her scheduled training appears to be delayed. It gives literally anyone the right to take it up.”

Jungkook raised a hand to cover his lips albeit not fully, he let Mingyu see the condescending smirk through the gaps between his fingers. “Teach your student to respect other people’s time before teaching us. That’s very hypocrite of you.”

He didn’t wait for Mingyu to even breathe another word as he turned on his heels and made his way to the assigned combat room.

“Let’s go.” Jimin called on you.

Keeping your head low, you responded. “Yes, Investigator Park.”

You entered the combat room after having your clothes changed. It seemed like you blended in quite well with the room. Your combat attire was white overall as well as the room, both wall and floor. The combat room is empty but not fully empty as there were flower beds. White flowers. You have no idea why it was the way it was.

As you made your way to a bench, you unwrapped the bandage you had brought over from your locker in the changing room to wrap your hands. The clicking sounds of a door closing reached your ears. Jungkook stepped into the combat room. Spotting you on the bench, he smiled as he approached you.

“Quite a scene just now, don’t you think, (Y/N)?” He sat next to you, mirroring your action with a bandage of his own. “A bit too early to my taste, I’d say. But very refreshing.”

Of course, it’s refreshing for you.

You practically wrecked your brain trying to find the appropriate answer to give out in response. Giving up, you could only muster up a tight smile and continued bandaging your hands. You subtly glanced at his hands as he finished wrapping up his hand.

Well, that’s quick.

After glancing for a bit too long, you noticed his bandage matched his outfit. Black. You looked at your unfinished wrapping.

White.

Just as you were about to resume your wrapping, Jungkook’s hands came into the frame. He gently pulled your hand so that it was closer to him and easier for him to wrap up for you.

“Uh, I can…” You pulled your hand away slowly. “Do it myself.”

He seemed to frown upon your action as he pulled your hand back to him and resumed. “I know.”

Jungkook sure was efficient and quick in his action. He finished wrapping up your both hands in under one minute. All while holding your hand as if you would break if he put even the littlest pressure. You had the time to study his face.

There were significant features of his that remained the same or maybe matured a bit, but it didn’t stop you from going back to the old days you shared with Jungkook. Back then when you were first brought to the headquarter of the Jeon clan, you knew of no one. Not even the person that brought you there. At that time, Jungkook was the only child you saw. If only calling him a child was right. Given that he acted and behaved nothing like a child.

Face hard, back straight, and hands balled into fists on both his lap.

And quiet.

�� You had not heard his voice until your third week there.

“That brings back memory, huh?” Jungkook tilted his head as he stared at you. “Your eyes are showing a hint of nostalgia.”

The closed proximity and intense staring.

The mysterious coffee eyes. His eyes were still as dark and deep as you first saw. Unlike you, Jungkook's eyes were unreadable. As if his eyes were disconnected from the brain and lived on their own.

He was defective.

But you learned to understand Jungkook by studying his body language instead. That, too, wasn’t as easy. Jungkook mastered the art of concealment. He hated being vulnerable.

Or he forced himself to hate vulnerability.

The Kishou and Jeon have something in common.

Their ruthlessness was known to the world.

Growing up as a Jeon meant survival. Only the best made it until the end. Jungkook was a direct descendant of the Jeon clan and the future that soon would lead and continue the Jeon clan. He was trained to be the best. As for an indirect descendant like you, your training was much more lenient given the fact that you were a Kishou.

Jungkook was trained mentally, spiritually, and physically. Trained to be zero.

Zero weakness.

But after the death of the Jeon clan's former leader, you could see Jungkook finally breathed.

You turned away to break eye contact. “Yeah…”

He hummed before he brought one of your hands to his lips, kissing your bandaged knuckles. “It’s not a good thing, sweetheart.”

You stared at him in shock.

“You’re a Jeon.” All said with a smile and gentle thumb brushing.

I’m a Kishou.

Kishou.

Another sound of the door clicking open resonated around the room, making you immediately pull back your hand. Jimin walked into the room with graceful steps. He was wearing the same combat attire as Jungkook. Black. Your hands were itching to grab your SfereX and snap a picture of Jimin really quick.

Jimin was ethereal. You would never be tired of telling that to yourself.

In terms of physique, Jimin’s build is lean with enough muscle in the right place. The difference in body proportion between Jimin and Jungkook was visibly huge, but their strength was at the same level. Maybe even a level greater than Jungkook.

“We’ll do hand-to-hand combat today.” Jimin announced.

“Sounds fun to me.” Jungkook grinned.

“Let’s start with one on one before the other joins in for 2 against 1, shall we?” Jimin suggested.

You agreed pliantly with a soft yes.

Even if you had disagreed as if Jimin would listen to you.

“One on one with me, (Y/N),” he declared as he strode to the centre of the room. “Are you ready?”

The only word you’ve said for the past few minutes. Yes.

Still having the gentleman in him, Jimin urged you to do the first take before he pitched in. The two of you got into position with hands up into fists just above chin height and feet opened shoulder width apart.

Jungkook’s remark heralded the start of the fight. “Start.”

You didn’t start with your fist instead your knee found its way to kick Jimin’s face. But of course, it took more than a simple movement to injure The Park Jimin. He easily dodged your attack. In return, Jimin charged with his fist, targeting your face which you managed to avoid.

The attack and defence continued until Jungkook announced his presence in the fight. You were against two of your superiors. Two of them hated losing. You didn’t dare to make any first move as soon as Jungkook joined in, so instead, you waited for them to charge any attack.

Jungkook seemed to see right through you as he advanced first. He fired a punch but instead of dodging it, you blocked it. His firing was too quick that you didn’t have the time to avoid it.

But it was a grave mistake.

Jungkook smirked before he continued firing punches to your defence. It was only a matter of time before one of his punches would reach your face. He cornered you to the wall at each punch. You took the opportunity to use the wall to send Jungkook flying back with your feet pushing on his chest and your back on the wall as support.

You didn’t realise how small your intake of oxygen was until you found yourself gasping for air after throwing Jungkook off. It happened all too fast, but you were sent flying to the other corner of the room.

By Jimin.

“Don’t let your guard down, (Y/N).” Jimin reprimanded.

You were quick to get back on your two feet. “I wasn’t–”

Had you not focused on your left, you would’ve been crushed. You made a beeline towards another safe spot before Jungkook practically crushed the wall.

His form of payback was crazy.

“Yes, she wasn’t, Jimin,” he pushed back his hair, showcasing his defined jawline. “Or else she would’ve been crushed like this wall.”

You believed in your hand-to-hand combat skills.

But you don’t believe them in hand-to-hand combats.

Jimin’s grip on your hair was unforgiving. As if his life depended on the tightness of the tug. Your eyes were filled with tears from the burn on your scalp. He trapped your body as he sat on your back, one hand tugging on your hair and the other resting on his crouched knee.

“Weak as ever (Y/N).”

You grunted in response.

“That’s why you’re always under me and forever will.” Jimin enunciated each word clearly, drilling them into your brain. “So, remember your priorities: me before anyone and anything.”

“That is enough, Jimin.” Jungkook stood in front of you with hands in his pocket, looking down at you. The stinging pain on your scalp affected your ability to open both eyes fully, only one of your eyes was opened as you tried to look the superior in front of you.

“You’re getting way too soft on her, Kook,” Jimin pouted. “That’s why she fails as a Jeon.”

“I’m a Kishou.” You hissed.

A new bruising and unforgiving pain started on your scalp and the cause was Jungkook. His movement was so fast that you didn’t get to comprehend the moment he crouched down and replace Jimin’s hand with his own.

“Kishou clan ended long time ago, sweetheart. Stop being delusional and be grateful the Jeon clan even took you in. You’re a Jeon, so live up to it. Do not sully the good name.”

He let go of your hair and stood to his full height. Jimin’s hand found its way around your burning scalp yet again but instead of inflicting more pain, he surprisingly massaged your scalp and even stroked your hair.

The door flew open, gracing the room with the presence of another two Special Class investigators and another one Associate: Min Yoongi, Kim Mingyu, and Kim Seokjin.

Your eyes were quick to fall on your partner’s figure.

“Gyu,” you whispered softly with utmost gratefulness.

But your gratefulness was short-lived as the bruising grip on your hair returned and stronger. Jimin pushed your face to meet with the floor.

“Jimin!” It was Jin’s voice.

“Shh, Jin hyung,” this time it was Yoongi’s voice. “They are in their training session. We mustn’t disturb them.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, honestly.

“The training session ended 2 minutes ago. Release her, Park.” Mingyu said.

You were sure Jimin was trying to plant your face into the ground. Might as well your whole body. The pressure he put was enough to make you imagine so. Whimpers fell from your mouth involuntarily as you felt the pain was too overbearing that it had already exceeded your limit.

Jimin let go of your hair harshly and the weight on your back disappeared. You stayed in your position for a few seconds and only raised your head when you heard another clicking sound of a door which indicated that Jimin has left the combat room.

Jungkook was still standing in front of you. When you tried to stand up, he quickly got to your level and tried to offer a hand.

Keyword: tried.

“Ah, Jungkook.” Yoongi tutted. “You can go freshen up. Mingyu will take care of her.”

Before Yoongi even finished his sentences, your attention was stolen when you heard footsteps approaching you. The next thing you knew, Mingyu was already next to you, helping you to get off the ground.

“I believe it’s appropriate for me to assist my student until the end.” Jungkook said.

He glared at the hands that were touching you, and with a deep and dangerous voice, he enjoined. “Get your hands off her, Kim.”

But Mingyu was unfazed.

“It is, Director Jeon,” Yoongi agreed. “But Director Kim urgently asked for your presence. 2nd ward has been attacked by a group of unknown ghouls. You might want to resolve that quickly.”

The Investigator of Special Class strode towards the changing room with Jin hot on his trail.

“Rather than to waste your time on…” Yoongi moved his cold gaze to you. “Her.”

Ouch.

Jungkook stayed on his spot for a good few seconds before he abruptly stood up and headed towards the changing room with big steps. Yoongi has a victorious smirk on his face as he casually followed Jungkook into the changing room, followed by Jin who sent you a look of pity.

You wished for the day to end already.

Before you have the chance to even be sucked into your hole of darkness and self-loathing, a hand reached out to stroke your head. It was Mingyu. He helped you to get into the correct posture and placed you in his arms. You didn’t put up any fights to protect your pride – not like there was any left. It was trampled on by your two superiors – and rested your head on his chest.

Before the darkness consumed you wholly, you heard a familiar voice calling for you.

It wasn’t Mingyu’s.

“(Y/N)!”

It was Minghao’s.

And then all your sense shut off.

623 notes · View notes

bangtanfancamp · 1 year

Text

Headed to the Mountains |KNJ

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•one shot

•Masterlist

•pairing: songwriter Kim Namjoon x oc with chronic pain

•word count: 3,465

•genre: escapism, hurt/comfort, smut, established relationship

•rating: MATURE/ 18+

•warnings: current event commentary, somewhat anti- American sentiment (I live in Texas so I see a lot of mess first hand 🫤 it’s my country but my god, it’s messy), stress, chronic pain, high sensitivity, sensory issues, first person voice, smut smut smutty smut, oral (female receiving and male), tandem oral, smex, doggy style?, Namjoon’s big brain during smex, smut with feelings and a lot of thoughts (as usual) ((all my air sign placements really coming out to play

•a/n: idk what this is, besties, besides extremely unedited and wildly indulgent. I may change the voice out of first person and all the “i’s” to “you’s” but it’s up the way it’s up for now. 🤷🏽‍♀️The world is just a horrifying place right now, especially in the US, and I just wanted to write something that felt like a small refuge, spend a little time some place that felt better, so we’re back in Namjoon’s living room. Also, who better to escape into the woods and away from reality with than the founder of namjooning himself ((also also, that bit about Pennsylvania was 100% true. It’s wild here, man))

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“I cannot get comfortable for the life of me,” I huff grumpily.

It’s a Monday night, late in March. The threat of rain has been looming for hours. Despite its sudden absence in the forecast when I check the weather app, I can still feel it in my bones. In the raw, creaky way my joints scrape against each other. The way the inflammation in my body burns like fire ants beneath my skin.

Namjoon is quick to notice from across the room.

“This weather’s been making your body feel like hell this spring.”

“Yeah, I hate to begrudge it though. Winter was even worse.”

“Gosh, it really was huh?” He frowns at the laptop screen on his desk. He’s got the tiniest beanie shoved on his very big head but somehow, it works. The tips of his hair peak past the beanie’s brim, brushing the mussed hair of his furrowed eye brows. “God, I can’t stand to stare at a screen a second longer.”

He peels his gold rimmed glasses off his nose, rubbing the little indentions they've made along the bridge and pressing his fingers into his closed eye sockets. I can tell he’s exhausted and miserable too about how much energy life seems to require of him these days.

“I’m going to scoop you up and make you the most comfortable woman in the world, I promise. Just give me like three minutes.” He tips back in his desk chair, the spine of it sliding out to a wide reclined angle as his long legs stretch out in front of him.

“Why did we spend so much money on a couch that’s not even comfortable, joonie?” I whine, shifting once again.

“Because the last one was even less comfortable than this one,” he reminds me, “and at least this one is cognac leather,” he shrugs. “It’s comfy on the eyes at least”

“Well I need it to be comfy for my bones.” I grunt, shoving yet another throw pillow out of your way. “Maybe we should pick up and move to the shore, like in a regency novel. I think the air would be good for me. I wonder if American healthcare accepts existential dread and deep chronic pain as enough of a reason to just financially support us until I turn to dust.”

“You and your TikTok algorithm both know as well as I do that America will do no such thing,” Namjoon chuckles with his eyes closed.

“I know…. But they should take at least some culpability. God knows most of my health problems probably exist BECAUSE of them.” I slide the strap of my bra and shirt off my shoulder, not because I want to be a seductress but because the elastic is cutting into my throbbing right trap muscle and if I don’t get some of the tension off of it, I might scream.

“Right? Did you hear about the latex spill in the Delaware river yesterday? The entire city of Philadelphia doesn’t have usable drinking water right now. My friend there literally got a text message about it from the city strongly recommending every use bottled water only until

Further notice. One and a half million people woke up to that text Message! It’s insane.” Namjoon pulls his oversized hood up over his beanie as he looks up at the ceiling, ankles crossed beneath the desk.

“Lord, haven’t we lived through enough of this? I’m so tired, joonie.” I can hear how pitiful I sound. To his credit, he treats me just the same as when I sound intellectually astute and strong. I’ve always liked that about him.

“If the world is going to hell in a hand basket anyway, maybe we should look into a- moving internationally and b- signing up for a payment plan on one of those YouTube influencer mattresses,” Namjoon tips his head my way, and suddenly my heart feels a little more light.

“Ooo, the helix?“ I smile, for perhaps the first time tonight.

His dark eyes twinkle in the low evening lamplight.

“ I actually did some research and found one made out of avocados.”

“Is that as close as I can get now that my body has decided it’s allergic to Avos?”

Namjoon’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “God, your body would find a way to betray you like that wouldn’t it?”

“It’s not my fault I’m too delicate for this world,” I shrug.

“I forget you were born inside a flower that protected you from the world with its petals until it bloomed, thumbelina.”

“If I could take a nap inside a peony right now, I’d do it in a heartbeat…. The pollen might be too much though.” I sigh.

“Come here,” Namjoon laughs, standing from his chair and extending his hand toward me.

“Where are you taking me?”

I slip my knuckles between his and knock against his shoulder with my head.

“To my bumblebee. Take you on a spin around the block” he winks.

“I’m surprised you didn’t say take a ride. It’s like the only lyric you use these days” I snicker, bumping the curve of my hip into his.

“You’re supposed to write what you know,” he shrugs.” It’s not my fault your hips are your area of expertise.”

He winks at me and god, if he took every piece of clothing off of me right now, I’d ride him in a heartbeat.

Shit. Knowing him, he can probably feel my response to him without even looking at me. Sure enough, he looks down, smiling until his dimples dip in his cheeks, and damn it, I’m so captivated by the focaccia dough dips in his face that I stumble into the corner of the wall. My hip catches and I yelp, more embarrassed than in pain.

“Shh, hey, I got you.”

That calm voice of his is so low right now as his palm curves around the dip in my hip that got nicked by the wall. I tip into his long, warm torso and let him guide me into the bedroom. I’m clearly too disoriented and agitated to make it here without careening into something else and frustrating myself, so I’m happy for the assistance. Besides, being scooped up in Namjoon’s substantial hands is never a bad place to be.

“Thanks, baby. I needed that.”

I press my temple into his chest, kiss his ribs. Marvel at the resistance of muscle I feel beneath his soft green shirt. I press my nose into the fabric and let the warmth of him calm me. His other hand strokes soft knuckles along my jaw. His touch is so light and sweet - I feel my shoulders drop as he does it.

“Pick me up?” I whisper, eyes lifting softly to look up at him from where I’m pressed into his chest.

His hands slide up my sides, palms pressed into my waist as he lifts me. The soft grunt he makes as my thighs wrap around his ribs makes something in my brain feel a little fuzzy. Life is better like this, I think. Our faces nuzzled cheek to cheekbone, his hands fitted beneath my thighs, mine trailing softly through the silky bits of his hair peeking out of the back of his beanie as my arms drape over his shoulders like fabric. I can feel the knot of tension in the middle of my spine begin to untie itself as I melt into him. God, I’m so happy he exists.

“Where would you like to go, princess?”

Namjoon kisses the top of my ear, and that fuzzy tingle in my brain is back.

“What are my options?”

I press my lips softly to his throat in light, meditative kisses. They’re more like delicate exhales. My tongue barely tips out to taste his skin. Just a touch. Just a taste. Sleepy and slow because that’s all I have the energy for. His eyelids do that hazy half flutter that tells me he likes it enough to pretend he doesn’t so that I’ll keep going. I smile as he gently tips his head to the side, as if waiting for my answer, but really he’s just giving me more room to access that spot behind his ear that likes my lips. Let’s humor the man.

“We could go to the bed, the shower, the bath…” he gasps a little on the last word, the ah sound coming out too airy as I gently mouth at his pulse point and his grip on my thighs gets tense. “Or there’s a ….counter right here.” His head tips toward the half bath in the hallway as his fingers dig into the meat of my legs.

When I look up to meet his eyes, they’ve gone serpentine. Deep and dark and heavy as he holds me close. I can feel how shallow his breathing is becoming and I smile, sleepy and soft as he watches me.

“Take me to bed, Joonie.”

He’s kissing me before I can even finish his name.

He tips the door open with one of his feet before squeezing us both through the threshold of it. With his eyes closed and his tongue between my lips, he’s bound to crash into something and he does. He thunks an elbow, I knock my head, but in seconds, he’s cradling it where I’ve bumped the wall, spilling “sorry, I’ve got you, sorry,” onto my tongue as he pulls me in closer.

The spell doesn’t break.

He’s big and he’s bulky but he’s careful with me as he lays me on the bed and climbs over me. His mouth doesn’t leave mine even as he peels off each piece of my clothing. His movements are slow, his touch tender as he does.

Namjoon has learned how to soothe my body when it’s alert like this. Knows the cool air feels refreshing and crisp when my skin is hot with pain and sensitivity so he gets me naked with a deft touch. He knows the feel of his skin is grounding for me so that soft green shirt of his hits the floor. Knows I love his hair so the beanie goes next. Knows I love the strength in his thighs so his shorts are next as he tugs my hips down beneath his to let me wrap my legs around his slim waist.

I'm so wrapped up in the warmth of him that I don’t realize he’s tugged my silk pillowcase beneath my head. It’s cool when my head falls back and I smile, toothy and wide, as his plush lips sink into my skin. He’s at my collarbone now, then the volume of my breasts. His breath is warm, the air is cool and his substantial hands grip me firm like dough he’s being careful with as he kneads.

His cock brushes against me between my legs and the bright feeling it sends sparkling through me makes my breathing stutter.

“Joonie,” I shiver, and I can feel him smile against my skin. See his eyes flash up at me in the dark.

“We do too much, baby.” He breathes, voice smoky and low like the dragon he is.

I don’t know what he means. My critical thinking is losing its sharpness as he suckles warm and soft at the dip of my ribs.

“Too much?” I can feel my brows crumpling, but his tongue is so warm on my stomach that my hands dig into his shoulders without my consent.

He reaches up to brush one hand over mine.

“Shhh, easy. We’re trying to relax you, not tense you up.”

He’s smiling. I can barely see him but I can feel him and I know his grin would only dissolve me deeper into the mattress.

“We do too much, we deal with too much. God, your skin is too motherfucking much,” he squeezes me, latches his soft mouth onto my waist and tugs at the skin. I can feel the bruise blooming there, but he’s off and on to the next before I can even get words out. “Your body is always trying to process all of it, but it’s too much. Let me take care of some of it- let me help.”

When His tongue slips between my legs, his strong hands push my legs wide, press them down when he feels me buckle. His breath is so warm, his mouth is so molten, his nose on my clit is so gentle- it all leaves my body in an exhale. Tension drops off like melted wax and I feel myself go supple in his palms as I let him do what he wants with me.

“There’s been so much chaos. So much to deal with. So much to do. I just want to run away from it all with you.”

His tongue is languid as it works on me. The rush of warmth undoes the aches in my body better than a hot bath ever has.

“Then let’s go, Joonie. Where do you want to go? I’ll follow you anywhere.” And I mean it. They’re not lusty rambles. They’re not hollow words. I’d follow him to the edge of the world.

He puts that plump mouth of his over my clit and the gentle way he slurps me up melts my bones into soup broth and clears my head.

“You’ll let me take you anywhere?”

He looks up at me, his mouth never leaving his post, working me slowly as he waits for my reply. His mouth is so wet, his eyes are so sharp and my body is just another piece of music he’s learned how to perfect. I nod, bottom lip bit between my teeth and relax as much as I can as he composes a symphony between my legs. His smile folds the crinkles around his eyes, and his aura flickers between lovingly soft and steadily authoritative as he doubles down, wrapping his arms around my legs to scoop my hips up into his face and pressing into me, deeper, faster, harder.

I arch up when he does, gasping as my shoulders lift up, my fingers twist in the bedspread, my jaw goes slack. He’s really doing a number on me and all I want to do is say thank you and let him continue.

He slides up my body then, one hand behind my head bringing my forehead to his as the other grips my hip with enough pressure to split it apart as he tips his cock inside me in a way I didn’t know I needed. The sound is squelchy and wet and he smiles as his nose bumps against mine.

“You’ll follow me?”

He sounds cocky in a way he hasn’t in a while and a little piece of me loves it. His hips are fluid as his cock rocks in and out of me. All I can do is nod wildly, disoriented as I clutch him close to me. My legs are folded up, feet along his hips for purchase with my knees butterflied wide. I’d laugh at how much I must look like a frog if this didn’t feel so good. He’s got a hand beneath my bum, lifting my hips off the bend and gliding his cock so deep into me that surely my organs are all shifting wide like the Red Sea to make room for him.

“Wherever you want to go,” I hum, arms falling slack. I’ve lost the energy to hold on to him, but he’s got me held up so precious and tight that we’re still more intertwined than two fibers of thread in a tight knit sweater. I’ve fused into him and now every breath is in tandem.

“I’m gonna take my girl away from here.”

His thumb brushes my bottom lip and I feel myself flush at his tenderness.

“Yeah?” My eyes are wide, following his. He hovers above me, furrowed face sculpted with intensity and aggression as his body works mine into ecstasy. I’ve really acquiesced to the fact that I’m nothing more than a soft lump of clay in his hands that he’s working with precision. I’ve always wanted to be a work of art.

He slips my breast into his mouth like a lychee jelly, moaning at the feel of me tightening around him when he does it. Pumping harder, faster, deeper, only to pull out and dip his long fingers into the mess he’s made. He slathers it over all my sensitive bits, caressing with finesse as sparklers crackle in my vision.

When He pulls me up and into him, my face is pressed between his pecs and god, I can’t keep it together. I kiss them furiously as he works, clutching onto his arms, dragging my fingers down his abs as he slides his glossy fingers over my clit like he’s casting a spell. I can’t breathe… I can’t breathe… I can’t….

But I can because I have to- Namjoon won’t ease up until he gives me the sweet oxytocin of release by his hands and I wouldn’t have it any other way. So I dig deep and exhale slow and controlled, whimpering as he rockets past that orgasm to send me into preparing for the next one. He smirks like I’m his plaything and I comply with no resistance. I’ll have as many rounds as he gives me. I’m a big girl. I can handle- Oh!

At least, I thought I could handle anything. Naive me, I suppose.

I smile into the sheets when he tips me over onto all fours. He kisses my shoulders, kisses along my spine, brushing his thumbs on the folds on my hip, all tender and kind and syrupy sweet as the behemoth between his legs tips ever so slowly inside of me despite my incredible tightness, and I don’t know whether to breathe or scream so I press my face into the bedding and giggle like there’s something wrong with me.

“Take you somewhere quiet,” he slides in deeper. “With no noise,” he thrusts. “No news.” He thrusts. “Just nature.”

My chest feels tight with affection but my body feels limps like a rag doll as he pumps me silly. His gargantuan hands holding up my hips are the only thing keeping me from sliding off the bed and melting into the floorboards.

“Joonie, i’d- I’d love that,” soft puffs of air leave me with each fluid roll of his hips. The snap at the end of the graceful flourish knocks my skull a little loose but I don’t mind. Thinking so little is really quite nice.

“Take you for walks, lay with you in nature, fuck you like this in an outdoor bath tub while we watch the stars.”

His hand glides down my spine as he paints beautiful pictures with his words. My heart and my body don’t know which way is up.

“Escape all this chaos. At least for a little bit.” He smirks. I catch a glimpse of it as I look over my shoulder, reach back to hold his hand.

“I might never let you drag me back to the real world.” My smile is gooey, fond and so is his now. His dimples have come out - all his sincerity and heart on display, as his hips still even as he still fills me up.

“I can write poetry in the wild,” he shrugs. “My music would probably be better for it.”

He looks bashful and soft. The juxtaposition of his strong body and sweet face make me dip forward. He slides out of me, watching with confusion as I guide him to stand beside the bed.

When I flip onto my back, letting my head loll backwards off the bed in front of him, he arches a brow at me. I just chuckle and pull him forward by the back of his legs.

“Come here. I want to make my own music.”

I take the length of him into my mouth and he topples over, hands bracing on either side of me on the bed. He groans so sweet and low that I smile as I take him deep. His knees buckle when my nose tips softly against his balls as I suckle him slowly and it takes everything in me not to laugh at how happy I am.

His hands travel my body as his mouth occupies itself. He makes a meal of my breasts, takes a drink between my legs, holds my throat to lighten my breath. When we cum in tandem, he collapses to my side as we catch our breath in silence.

The night is still, the air is cool and rain is finally trickling against the windows.

Our bodies are spent and our plan is set.

We’ll run away soon enough.

But now, cradled breast to breast, we sleep knowing our world is just the smallest bit brighter.

#bts smut #kim Namjoon smut #rm smut #rapmonster smut #BTS fic #kim Namjoon fic #kim Namjoon comfort fic #kim Namjoon x you #kim Namjoon x reader #kim Namjoon x oc #kim namjoon x y/n #BTS x you #bts x female reader #kim Namjoon x female reader

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clubdionysus · 3 days

Text

[BAD DECISION #25] January

warnings: we get jaykay in his student era!!! poor baby is STRESSED!! very wholesome!! b makes him pasta, very lovely <33 until very suddenly it's not!! fingering, mentions of the erotic accordion, lots of teasing. a personal fave!!

wc: 12.5k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

It's a pleasant surprise to see Kim Taehyung with his clothes on.

His cheeks are still a little warm when he strolls into the art cafe, well aware that it was his other cheeks you'd been confronted with when you'd seen him last.

Hands in pockets, he plays it off. Is cool and casual, in that suave way artists so often are.

"If you're looking for Danbi, we only live together. Don't work together. Think you'll find her at Memorial Park with half a dozen dogs, maybe" you tease.

He rolls his eyes, and continues forward to the main desk. When he reaches it, he leans an elbow down and looks quite at home. Dressed in a pair of dark slacks and cream button-up, he's a business-casual Capricorn's wet dream. It's entirely understandable why Danbi couldn't resist. You're surprised it's taken her this long, if anything.

"If it was Danbi I was after, it'd be Danbi I was with," he assures you, smile ever-present. He's charming; not like a sleazebag, but like a Disney prince. Always says the right thing. "And anyways, I know she's there. Just been there, myself."

You smile, pleased for your best friend.

It makes sense. She's been with him every night since New Year's. Your apartment has actually been a little lonely.

A week on since you were greeted with his bare arse, you're curious as to why Taehyung would be gracing you with his presence. It wouldn't be entirely out of character, but you are also aware that the last time he was here, it was to pitch his art show.

You remind him of this - not that he needs it, as he passes a business card over to you, embossed with a since hangul syllable: 류.

"Ryu?" You ask. "As in the gallery?"

He nods. "Ryu Gallery."

It's mid-size, a little out of town, but well-respected. Was one of the many galleries that simply didn't get back to Tae - but you have an acquaintance who works there. A friend of Seokjin's, actually. Involved in the finance side of the company. Had invited him along because you figured that there was no harm in asking. Didn't really expect him to show up.

Pulling his phone from his front pocket, Taehyung says nothing as he loads up his call history. At the top, there's a red number - one missed call - and a small play button next to what you assume is a voicemail. He presses down on it, and lets it play out.

"Hello, this is Park Shinwon from Ryu Gallery. I was passed your information by one of our colleagues, and was wondering if you had availability for a call regarding your work? We have an opening at the end of the month and are looking for a local artist to fill the space. If you think this could be a good fit for you, please call me back at the earlie-"

Taehyung cuts the voicemail short. You've heard all the important stuff.

There's a smile on your face; one that brewed gently as the memo played out. He'd done it. The write-ups and reviews had been fantastic, and Namjoon had helped get Taehyung a decent spot in the arts & culture section of the local paper, but this is the first solid indication that the show had been prosperous.

"Holy shit," you beam, clapping your hands together in tiny little pats of joy.

"Right?!" He beams right back. Phone locked and back in his pocket, Taehyung's never looked prouder of himself. You don't know him like you know Jimin or Jeongguk, but you know him well enough to understand how huge this is for him. "I can't even begin to thank yo-"

"No!" You laugh, reaching across the counter to squeeze his arm. "Don't you dare. It was your hard work, Tae. You did this! Congratulations!"

A little bashful in the way he looks down, it's clear that he's not used to such high praise. It's something he'll have to get used to, you think. This is just the start for him. He's destined for greats, you're sure of it - but then again, you have unwavering faith in everyone you care about. You'll manifest for them; will their dreams into reality. You're not sure if it works, but it's nice to think it does.

"Did you call back? What did you say?" You enthuse, before a couple comes to the counter with their finished artwork. Gritting your teeth, you cast Taehyung an apologetic smile. "Ah, just give me a moment."

He nods, and tells you to carry on. He knows he's interrupted you at work and feels bad for it. He could have just waited until he came around that evening (Danbi had already asked if he would), but was too nervous about the call.

When you return from packing up the canvases and ringing through the bill, he admits to it.

"Haven't actually called them yet," he grits his teeth together, eyes apologetic. "Didn't know what to say. It's kinda why I'm here."

"Oh?"

"You can say no," he prefaces, "but like... I don't know the first fucking thing about the suit side of the art world. Don't know how to negotiate, don't even know if that is something I need to be doing. I'm a fish out of water. and you're the only person I know - and trust - who seems to have any clue what they're doing."

It's really sweet that he thinks you have any idea at all. You just wing it a solid seventy percent of the time. You have connections, and you have a functioning brain. That's about it.

Still, you'll let him think that you have your wits about you.

"So..." you encourage, trying to coax a proper question out of him. You know what he's asking, but really think that all of Jeongguk's ragtag bunch of friends could do with learning how to ask for what they want. Maybe not Yoongi. He seems to have shit figured out.

"So..." Taehyung imitates, a friendly grin on his face. He's pretty. Really isn't hard to see why Danbi likes him. She's always gone for the artsy types. Likes to be a muse. "I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? Sort of like an agent, but not quite, 'cause I'm poor as fuck and definitely can't afford it."

"Agents work on commission," you tell him. "Or at least some of them do, so it doesn't matter that you're poor now."

"Well, I might never be rich," he warns you.

Taehyung believes in his work. Loves his work. Is yet to have success that reflects this. Other people don't seem to feel as strongly about it, which leaves him with lingering doubt as to whether or not he actually has something , or if it's all a bit of a vanity project. He hopes it's not. Knows that Rome wasn't built in a day, mind you.

It takes dedication. A hard grind. He's got grit and determination, but the doors he's knocked at have been double-bolted. Thinks that maybe you could give him a key.

"I doubt that very much," you say regarding his doubts.

Of all the work showcased at the last show, it was his pieces that people kept coming back to. His pieces tagged in the art cafe's Instagram by customers. His pieces that sold; that got people interested. You had even had a girl in the cafe on a date a few weeks ago, who painted a replica of one of Tae's prints, which had been hanging on the wall beside her.

He's got talent.

But he knows that's not enough.

"Still, I didn't even realise agents were paid that way. I've no idea what on earth I'm doing, Disco Ball. Not really."

You take a moment to consider the proposition, but you aren't sure why. It's a no-brainer. Of course you'll help him out. You've contacts, thanks to your job, and acquaintances with money to spend thanks to Seokjin. You'll be an invaluable resource for him - and he'd much rather have a friend leading him through this unchartered territory than someone who only cares about numbers and finances.

"I'll make you a deal," you offer. "I'll help you, free of charge, but on one condition."

"Go on..."

You beam; smile so sweet that Taehyung knows your compromise is probably unconventional.

"I get a Kim Taehyung original."

"It won't be worth anything," he laughs. "It's a rotten deal."

"Not yet, maybe, but it will be," you tell him.

Much like Jeongguk's dreams, you believe in Taehyung's, too. Have no doubt he will achieve success. He's a Capricorn. Is just what they do.

"Alright," he agrees. Holds out his hand for you to shake. "I'll give you a free commission. You can redeem it at any time. Anything, any size, doesn't matter. It's yours."

He makes a mental note to revise this deal as you shake his hand. Doesn't think it's entirely fair on you. Thinks that he's benefitting far more from this than you will - but good, original artworks within your budget are hard to come by. You know your future self will thank you for this.

You tell Taehyung to arrange a meeting with the consultant at Ryu Gallery.

"I'll go with you as a representative; will ask the right questions, stuff like that. The key here is to not sell yourself short or undervalue your work. If you sell a million-dollar piece for a hundred bucks, it'll set a precedent. People will take advantage. It'll be detrimental."

He nods, eager to learn. Willing to listen. Wants to succeed, and will do all he can to make sure it happens.

Departing only after you force him to call Ryu Gallery back and set a date in the calendar for next week, Taehyung is beyond appreciative. Both Danbi and Jeongguk had told him to reach out to you again, but he'd felt a little guilty, almost as if he was taking advantage of how charitable you are.

You don't really see it that way. Figure that if the roles were reversed, he'd do the same for you.

"Oh, just quickly!" Taehyung pipes up just as he reaches the door of the cafe. "The piece up in Jeongguk's living room - the black and gold one." Your face heats up. "Who's the artist?"

"Not sure," you shrug with an inconspicuous purse of your lips. "Why?"

"Jeongguk just said he got it from here," Taehyung explains, your cheeks only getting rosier and rosier. "I really like it so just wondered if it was part of a bigger collection."

"I can check," you say, knowing that there is absolutely no way you're ever gonna produce another one of those. Now that Tae's asking questions about it, you know Jeongguk needs to squirrel it away. The last thing you want is the truth coming out.

"Amazing," he beams.

You smile right back, but let it fade into a groan as he heads down the stairs, the realisation that he's seen the imprint of your tits leaving you mortified.

It's only fair though, you suppose. You have seen his arse, after all. Maybe you are more well acquainted than you realise.

The lives that you and Jeongguk had lived separately for many moons have somehow converged, meeting a diving point of intervention; as if you were meant to live your lives exactly as you have, just for moments like these.

This is only amplified when you arrive at Jeongguk's place after your shift finishes.

On New Year's day, after the creation of his sticky note shrine, origami birds watching proudly, you'd reached an agreement with Jeongguk: each and every one of the sticky notes have to be done by the end of the year.

"What about the birds?" Jeongguk had asked, not wanting to sacrifice them.

You both know the birds hold far more weight. The sticky notes are fun; a chance to experiment freely with somebody who is on the same page as you. The birds are all about preparing yourself to turn the page, so you can meet someone willing to start a new book with you.

Curled up in his bed, while Jeongguk had been sitting on his bedroom floor putting together a display box for a new 'sculpture' (because he refuses, still, to let you call them action figures) that he'd been gifted for Christmas, you had contemplated his question.

"The birds fall naturally," you'd hummed. "They drop when the universe needs them to. The sticky notes are deliberate. We're making the active choice to do them."

Cross-legged, Jeongguk reached over to get a small screwdriver from his bedside table. Your gaze had been up on the birds, but drifted down to him.

"So we'll make the active choice to do the sticky notes, and then just do the birds when they fall?" Jeongguk had clarified, not looking at you as he threaded a small screw into its hole.

"Yeah," you'd smiled. "Like, I come round once a week, and we get a sticky note done. Something like that."

Looking up at you now, Jeongguk had tilted his head in contemplation, pursing his lips before finally nodding. "Shall we say Sundays?"

With a slight sense of trepidation, but the awareness of this being good for you both, you had nodded. "Sundays. Trial it for the month of January. See how it goes."

And so now you're at Jeongguk's place for the first time since New Year's with a clear agenda - and yet all you really want to do is hang out with him. Innocently. Platonically.

"Oh thank God," Jimin breathes out with an overdramatic sigh of relief when he opens the door for you. Shoes on, jacket slung over his shoulders, he's been waiting on your arrival. "Jeongguk- '' he calls back into the darkness. None of the living area lamps are on, the city lights illuminating their apartment instead. "The babysitter is here! I'll be gone till morning. Don't be any trouble."

You roll your eyes, flicking his arm as you step past him into the apartment.

He's heading out for a family event down in Busan. Jeongguk had been intending on going to the city with him, but simply has too much school work to do.

Finals are coming up. He's stressed to the absolute high heavens.

"I will warn you," Jimin says quietly while you take off your shoes. "He's in a foul mood. Has been for, like, three days now. Think it's his time of the month."

"Still baffles me how you're able to pull," you mutter, knowing that any explanations on the intricacies of the menstrual cycle would be wasted on him - only for Jimin to remind you that he pulled you . "Was a moment of weakness," you assure him.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say DB," he grins. "Look after him alright? Make sure he eats his veggies and brushes his teeth before bed."

Jimin departs faster than the winter wind that's howling against their windows. You don't even have a chance to question why he's treating Jeongguk like such a child - but as you walk into his bedroom, you sort of see why.

His bed's unmade, and he hasn't showered since, like, Thursday, maybe. Papers are scattered all over his desk, and there's a collection of takeout boxes by his door. The birds that were on his desk are now perched up on the shelf, laying in the middle of his chessboard. Beside them, a pot of your misplaced glitter sparkles in the dim light.

Quite unlike himself, Jeongguk's jaw looks sharper but his cheeks are bloated. You can tell he hasn't been eating nor drinking enough. Has a can of Monster on his desk, but you both know it's not enough to sustain him.

He really does look like a university student now, more than he ever has done before. Glasses on, hair tied in a tiny bun by the nape of his neck, teeth nibbling down on his bottom lip, the stress is evident in his sloped posture.

"Don't look at the mess," he mumbles, embarrassed that you have to see his room in this state, but also too preoccupied to really care.

You meander to his bed and sit down, one leg crossed beneath the other. Smile. "Too late."

"Sorry," he offers, but you shake your head - not that he's looking at you.

"S'fine," you hum. "If tonight is bad for you, we can always resched-"

"No," he says rather sharply, finally turning to look at you. His eyes are all wide and wanting, hating the idea of you leaving so soon, but they're also tired . He needs rest. "No, sorry." He puts down his pen, and turns in his chair a little. "I'm probably gonna be shitty company, but I'd like you to stay."

And so you nod. Of course you'll stay.

"Your hair looks sweet like this," you muse a little mindlessly as you come to stand by him, letting your index finger twirl in the curl that sticks out from the small bun.

His hair is always silky smooth, and you're envious of how well-nourished it is. A little curly, he definitely visits the salon every once in a while. You find it all very endearing, imagining him with a little salon cape around his shoulders, protectors over his ears, curlers in his hair.

"Needs a wash," he simply states, not wanting to dwell on the compliment that makes his tummy feel all funny. He's not really used to such delicate compliments.

Jiyeong would always comment on his physical strength, manliness, shit like that. Hardly surprising, given that she works at the gym. It's not just her though - Hayun's favourite part of him was always his upper arms.

He's no idea what you like about him. What attracts you to him - 'cause as much as you both like to pretend you're a bit repulsed by one another, there's obviously gotta be some sort of mutual attraction. The sex is too good.

Unless, he considers, it's all just chemical. Hormonal shit he doesn't understand, but knows plays an important role in chemistry. Maybe you aren't physically attracted to him at all.

"Wish my hair looked that good when it needs a wash," you sigh.

"I've never seen it look bad," he says, not thinking much of it.

"Well, I'd hope not," you smile. "I do know how to shower."

"I've got some things just to finish up - shit ," he curses as he realises just how much of a mess his room is. "I'm sorry. Been at work today, haven't you? Can grab a shower if you like, or something while I do this."

'This' is test revision. Coursework never really stresses him out, even if he does leave it until the last minute. He has more control over the variables. Exams make him nervous, and if there's one feeling Jeongguk hates, it's nervousness. Figures if he studies and studies and studies, then he'll feel prepared, and the nerves will ease. It never works. Only ever makes it worse.

"You sure?" you ask, though if you're being honest, a shower right now would be ideal. You got paint all over you at work, and while most of it washed off in the sink, you still feel a little less than fresh. "Or is this some backhanded way of telling me my hair looks shit?"

"Oh, 100%. You look awful. But also, yes. I'm sure," he smiles, soft eyes patient as he tries to push the pressure of his studies to the back of his mind. He hasn't seen you all week. Has missed you. Is glad you're here. Kinda hates that he's telling you to leave him, already, even if it's only for twenty minutes or so.

"Gonna join?" You ask, not really thinking much of it. Just a habit, now.

Jeongguk shakes his head. "Will get one later."

There are two distinct halves to Jeongguk's fear of rejection. The obvious, most notable half is the part of him that hates the feeling of being rejected, which prevents him from asking for what he wants.

Far less discussed is the part of him that feels like he always has to say yes, because he doesn't ever want to make other people feel bad.

Just like he never fears rejection from you, he doesn't fear your reaction to his rejection, either. There's a stable foundation to your friendship. It's good for him.

So used to transactional relationships with the girls he's slept with - on their part, not his - he doesn't really realise that this - what you two have - is normal. It's how it should be.

And so when you smile, and say 'okay', Jeongguk almost expects you to start fighting with him.

It's been a few days since he spoke with Jiyeong ( where it was firmly established that she ended it with him, and that he was the problem, not her) but lingering patterns of behaviour still plague his mind. Feelings of failure still reside in the part of his brain that deals with desire.

You believe him when he says he won't join. Don't try and tempt. Tonight isn't about that - though you do glance over to the myriad of sticky notes on his bedroom wall before you grab his towel. Pay no notice to the fact there's a new one. Just as fluffy - exactly the same, you think - it's still wrapped in a sleek bow with the tag on it.

Maybe he's gotten annoyed with how often you use it. Maybe you're just such a permanent fixture that two seems like a good idea. You don't ask about it.

Instead, you also grab one of his shirts - the one with his hand prints on it. Paint markers have been taken to the shirts since, now outlining where his bones would be. The skeleton hands make you laugh - but they also get you thinking about that shower with him.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you leave Jeongguk to get on with his studies.

As you start the shower up and relieve your hair from the claw clip it's up in, you aren't too concerned with him joining. You genuinely do want to shower. Leave the door open just in case, but don't wait for him like you did the last time you were in the same position.

It turns out showers are far quicker when you're solo. You leave it without the feel of his hands on your body, but the scent of his strawberry shower gel still stains your skin. Feels like you're perpetually covered in him, in a roundabout way.

Scrunching your hair with his towel as you head back into his room, your clothes are still in a pile on his bathroom floor. You're just in the shirt now, bra foregone, underwear on to maintain some kind of decency.

You don't really greet him, instead heading to the window to take in the view. You're always envious of the skyline. It makes you consider moving closer to the inner city - but you're quite comfortable in your low-rise with Danbi. Plus, you can always just come and hang out here if you find yourself missing it.

Jeongguk says nothing as he comes to stand in behind you; personal space void of any meaning between the pair of you. Chin resting on your head, he drapes his arms over your shoulders.

You whisper a small greeting, and he whispers one back, but neither of you make conversation. Instead, you just watch the traffic roll on by.

His eyes are down by the traffic lights, watching as a small crowd forms, a red light preventing them from crossing even though the road is clear. Yours are a little higher up, on the motel that is hidden between two skyscrapers. The curtains are mostly all drawn; save for one, where a couple stands in a position hauntingly similar to yours and Jeongguk's. They're smiling. Joking about something. Enjoying one another company - until the person standing in Jeongguk's position draws the curtain shut to keep the world at bay.

Maybe they're friends, too, you hypothesize - but friends don't book in love motels together, and if they do? Well, they certainly don't look like that together.

It's not like it's a new concept to you. You understand the conventions of couples; just think that maybe the line between romantic and platonic is far finer than you previously believed. Reckon that you and Jeongguk have a clear sense of it.

Turning in your spot, you wanna get a read on his face; see if you can gauge what he's thinking, what he's feeling. He doesn't move back as you turn. Stays in position. Doesn't mind the closeness.

Just an inch or so away from you, the proximity forces you to tilt your chin upwards in order to catch his gaze. His own chin is tipped to his chest, looking down at you in the gentlest of ways.

Storm clouds of mascara rest faintly beneath your lash line, and the occasional rivulet of water trails from your hair and down your skin like spring rain. Your typically tempestuous attitude is nowhere to be seen; docile in the calm of Jeongguk's mellow summer air.

Silent as the pads of his fingers stroke down the side of your neck, you're well aware of the fact you're not really breathing. Are too consumed by trepidation. Fearful and yet hopeful of what's to come. His firmly pouted lips part slowly - but he doesn't lean down.

Instead, his fingertips hook beneath the chain around your neck, and slowly begin to twist it back into position. The clasp had fallen to the front, excess chain tangling around the charm.

Jeongguk holds the dainty silver bird where it should be, between your collarbones, his touch feathery as he preens you.

Cautious and yet entirely confident, he doesn't mean to steal your breath - but it's only fair. You took his first.

His lip purse. Fold in on themselves. Lip ring does the thing. Adam's apple bobs as he swallows back a feeling he doesn't quite know what to make of.

And then he simply nods. Steps a little further back. Smiles. "There. Much better."

A discreet smile ghosts your lips as he turns away from you to get back to his work. Revision always gets him in this weird of constant contempt; stressed at the world around him even when he needn't be. Gets him antsy. Agitated.

His stress manifests in hunched shoulders and restless legs which jitter beneath his desk.

He tries to ignore the twinge of guilt in his chest as you leave the room without a word. Knows that he must be terrible company. Wonders why he can't just express himself normally.

Contrarily, you worry that Jeongguk just wants to be alone, and that your presence is overbearing. He could have cancelled plans if he wanted to. You wouldn't have minded. Sure, you've missed hanging out with him, but it's not the end of the world. Is probably good to have a little bit of a breather from one another every now and again.

Fixated on the fact you feel like a bother, you set about making yourself useful. He looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in a good while, and the boys keep their fridge remarkably well-stocked for a couple of bachelors with a penchant for nightlife.

Jeongguk listens out for you, still doing his work. Can hear you rummaging about in the fridge, and wonders what on earth you could be doing. Figured that the pair of you would just order in, or something like that.

Truthfully, you'd thought the same - but they've got a stockpile of tomatoes, and chicken that needs using. Without Danbi at home much this week, you've overindulged in take-out and snack foods a few too many times. You need a good meal just as much as he does.

Glancing over to the hob, you check the pasta in the glass jar next to Jeongguk's chopping board. They're out of spaghetti, save for maybe ten strands, but thankfully have a full jar of rigatoni.

You know you can thank Jimin for the decanted pasta. The more you learn about him, the more you understand why his bedroom is so bare despite his job. He calls it 'intuitive interior design' - making life easy for himself through deliberate choices. It's why his bedroom is so streamlined. Less clutter means he can reset his brain more easily.

The living space is where the colour of the apartment is - Tae's paintings, photobooth strips, feather boas stolen from Dionysus - but the kitchen is laid out in a way that makes things easy for both of the boys.

You set about getting the things you might need, not really caring to ask Jeongguk's permission. Whatever you use, you'll happily buy again in the morning, but also highly doubt he'll ask you to. At least this way, he won't have to waste perfectly good ingredients on account of them rotting away in the bottom of the fridge.

You're chopping the tomatoes by the time Jeongguk comes to stand in his doorway.

Leaning against the frame, a hand in his pocket, a soft smile on his lips, he's a little confused. Just watches as domestication becomes you; stars forming on your cheeks when the low glare of the overhead lights hits you just right. Hair still a little damp, it's up with a claw clip, small strands framing your face. You've the speaker on quietly, not wanting to disturb him. Some song he doesn't know by an artist he doesn't recognise plays. All he knows is that he likes it. Likes how comfortable this feels.

Jeongguk has missed you. Has been working to the point of exhaustion, but unable to sleep whenever he goes to bed. Looking at you now, he tries to stifle a yawn. Is glad you haven't noticed his presence, 'cause he knows the face he just pulled wasn't pretty.

But he thinks you are.

The fact he feels like he could sleep now? A curse, he decides. Doesn't wanna sleep. Wants to spend all evening catching up with you.

You're using the side of the knife to gather the chopped tomatoes together, and scooping them into a bowl, when you finally notice him.

"Hey," you say, a smile present as always. Such a simple word, but such a comforting one, too.

"Hey," he smiles back. "Watcha doin', B?"

"Baking a cake," you joke as you begin to peel some garlic from a bulb.

"Mhmm? Tomato cake," he says, pushing off the doorframe with his shoulder and making his way to the kitchen island. He stands opposite you, resting his elbows on the counter, chin in his hands. "My favourite."

The way your eyes sparkle under the warm lights that hang down from the ceiling has Jeongguk thinking of the stars again. His are all starry too, but you think that's just normal for him.

"Good," you say. "I'm making you your very own tomato cake. You have to eat it all ."

"I will."

"You better."

"Every last crumb," he nods - and even though tomato cake sounds absolutely repulsive to him, his stomach rumbles. Makes you laugh.

"When did you last eat?" you ask as you turn to the hob to fetch some spices off the rack.

Jeongguk mumbles. Says he doesn't really remember. Your eyes are sympathetic, frown present when you face him again.

"Gotta look after yourself," you tell him.

"I know. I will. I am - it's just, this exam, Byeol... I'm bricking it."

You had figured as much, but it's nice to have him confirm it instead of letting your assumptions take the lead.

"S'why I chose a coursework exclusive degree," you tease, trying to lighten his mood. "Was heaven."

"I'm so glad we didn't know each other back then," he laughs. "Would have resented you so badly."

You grimace, and give him a look he doesn't understand.

"You're BEM boy," you explain, shortening his Business and Events Management course name to the acronym that it's more commonly known by on campus. And then you shudder. "We wouldn't have been friends."

"Oh, bullshit," he protests. He knows boys on the full-time BEM course have a reputation amongst the alumni. Fuckboys . He's part-time, though. Doesn't run with those crowds. Is a good few years older than most of them, now.

"Nope," you argue back, still pottering about the kitchen, adding more ingredients to the saucepan. "If you'd have been in uni at the same time as me, I'd have avoided you like the plague."

"Would have been your loss."

Doesn't wanna blow his own trumpet, but knows that he looked damn good at 21. Considers it his peak. Forgets 23, and the amount of girls falling at his feet (was too busy at the time, face down by Hayun's feet instead). Simply doesn't realise how good he looks now, at 25.

Maybe 18-year-old Jeongguk was a little awkward, granted, but everyone is at that age. Whenever he used to visit his friends on campus for nights out, the girls they knew would always want to go out with them.

It's actually how he met Hayun. Was 19, and Taehyung had just done a project with her and Nabi for some extra credit. She came on a night out, and he got so nervous around her that he decided to black out just so he didn't have to feel the nerves. He'd woken up the next morning face down in a kebab box on the floor of Nabi and Hayun's dorm.

He resigned himself to the friend zone, and for a while, it had worked. For years, in fact. Convinced himself that they really were just friends. Best friends. Had offered to shag her after she'd spent a solid twenty minutes complaining about the fact she hadn't had sex for long she may as well have been a born-again virgin. Was just joking - but when she called his bluff, Jeongguk folded.

Maybe it wouldn't have been your loss at all.

Maybe you'd have never become friends, like you are now.

Maybe you both had to live through your traumas to be able to find one another.

You just scoff, unaware of memory lane taking Jeongguk down an unfavourable path. " Sure . My first uni hook-up was with a guy doing BEM. Trust me. I would have avoided you."

"Oh?" Jeongguk questions. "Do I know him?"

Shaking your head, you turn to place the pan on the stovetop, and let it heat up. "Doubt it. Was a final year when I was a fresher, so would have been gone way before you started."

Jeongguk's brows furrow, now. "When you were a fresher? A final year?"

Humming confirmation, you carry on with your cooking.

"He was supervising the fresher's bar crawl," you explain. Can't even remember his name, now. Can barely remember anything about that night. "Was leading my team. I lost against him in a drinking game. Really couldn't handle my drink back then. Anyways, I ended up in some off-campus house with the most vom-inducing hickies known to man."

"So you were drunk?"

It sounds a little accusatory. He doesn't mean to. It's just that he deals with creeps taking advantage of drunk girls all the time. Hates it. Hates thinking it happened to you.

"Yeah?"

"And he wasn't?"

"He was less so. Was still drinking, but yeah, it wasn't my best decision."

The way you shrug it off frustrates Jeongguk. His lips purse a little, and the dimples reserved for moments of contemplation deepen in his cheeks.

"You know what it's like when you're eighteen," you continue, facing away from him, unaware of his obvious contempt. "First taste of freedom and all that. Think you're invincible. And like, I made worse choices that year," you add, as if that's supposed to soften the blow of what you've just told him.

His tummy feels all twisted; as if his body is trying to manifest the concept of time travel just so he can go back and apply for university when everyone else did. Wants to have been your friend right from the start. Wants to erase the reality of creeps taking advantage of you.

"Still a kid at eighteen," he says. Strange, how he doesn't afford his past self the same kindness. "It's so young."

You shrug, turning back around to retrieve the extra vegetables for the sauce. "Easy to think that, looking back. Thought I had the world figured out, at the time. The older I get the more naive I realise I was."

Funny, how years and years later, you feel more clueless than you ever did back then. Relationships were black and white; you either loved someone, or you didn't.

Now, the concept of love you once knew isn't one that you're entirely sure you believe in. Not in the same way you did.

"Anyways, you should shower," you say, moving the conversation along. No point dwelling on pasts that make no difference, now. "You look like shit."

He reaches over to one of the spare tomatoes and throws it in your direction. Smiles when you try to swat it away, only for it to hit your neck regardless.

"Charming as always, Byeol," he says a little dryly, but with his smile still wide.

"Well, you do," you assure him, face straight, eyes earnest.

"Show up at my place, use my hot water, start rummaging around in my fridge-" he says with a tsk .

" You invited me," you scoff right back. " Told me to shower, and I'm cooking for you . Christ alive. You really are unbearable today."

The grin on Jeongguk's face is so pretty, eyes so sparkly, that you think you want to kiss him again. Silly little thought in your silly little head. Silly, and improper, and dangerous. Disastrous, in fact.

"And," you add on, because you know you need this conversation to end. "You stink. So go and get a shower, you horrible boy."

Feeling somewhat challenged, Jeongguk lifts his arm above his head and nestles his nose right into his pit. Inhales, as if he's smelling freshly baked pie. Smiles. "Ahhhh. Delicious."

You gag.

"You wanna smell?" he offers, leaning a little further on the counter, face sweet as he encourages you. The look of repulsion on your face is exactly what he was after. "Yeah?"

"Keep that pit away from me," you warn, holding up the knife you had used to chop the tomatoes.

Despite the threat, Jeongguk edges around the kitchen island. "Yeah? Wanna smell?"

"Stay the fuck away!"

"Wait, I didn't hear you. You said come closer?"

"Gguk!"

For all your protests, the knife is back down on the counter. You tossed it down so you could run from him, but you're not really trying all that hard.

You'll pretend like you are. Wriggle from his grip when he catches you. Try and hide your laugh as he tries to quite literally smother you. Will pinch his nipple through his shirt as a form of defence. Will gag, and whine, and pretend like this is the worst experience of your life.

But in the comedown of Jeongguk's chase, you both giggling, caught in an embrace that is far too close, sauce simmering away without a care, you'll notice the stars in his eyes again. Count the constellations. Forget how to breathe, as if you really are in space without any oxygen.

"You smell like a sweaty ballsack," you tell him with absolute certainty.

Yet your grip on his shirt doesn't ease.

"You look like a sweaty ballsack," he counters. Swallows.

Neither of you pull away. Apparently, you're both partial to a sweaty ballsack. Who'd have thought?

On a fundamental, human level, you're aware that Jeongguk doesn't smell great. He is sweaty and definitely has worn that shirt for like, three days in a row, but... you like it. Oh it's disgusting . Really fucking horrid. Rancid, even.

"Shower," he just says, softly, as if he's reminding himself of what he needs to do.

You nod. "Shower."

But your hands are still holding the sides of his shirt, and his eyes can't seem to focus on yours because they keep dropping to your lips, and then his breathing is all over the place and so is yours and - fuck .

Loosening your grip, you pat the front of his chest. He doesn't move. Just closes his eyes. Nods.

"I need to check the sauce," you whisper. "Go. Shower."

And so he does as he's told. You keep yourself busy tinkering about until you hear the shower start up - at which point, you rest your palms on the counter and let your head hang between your shoulders. Sigh deeper than Marianas Trench. Shake your head. "Stupid."

You're unaware, but he's doing the exact same thing by the bathroom sink.

It had been fine. It had been fun. Why did I have to linger like that? Why did I have to make things weird? Why am I always making things so awkward?

He tosses his clothes down on the pile by the door, his on top of yours, and instantly feels a little bit better when the water hits his skin. Tries not to dwell on it, 'cause if he pretends moments like those don't happen, he won't have to deal with them. Will gaslight himself into thinking it never happened.

You're on the couch by the time he's done with his shower, legs curled up, pasta cooked and waiting in a covered saucepan for him.

"Not eating?" he asks as he notices there's no evidence of you having pasta on the coffee table.

Glancing over to him, you're reminded of post-shower Jeongguk and why the concept of it is so dangerous for you. Towel wrapped around his waist, water trailing down his abs... Yeah. You lose your mind a little. Think that any sane human would also lose theirs.

"I, uh-" you pause. Swallow. "Um. Sorry. Eat?"

"Yeah," he smirks, a little bemused. Figures you were lost in the show you're watching. Still in his shirt, your hair is pretty much dry, now, slight waves framing your face while the rest of it is still pinned back in a claw clip. You really do need to decide what you're doing with the colour. The bleach is growing out far faster than you thought it would, but you can't commit yourself to getting rid of it. Jeongguk likes the slightly messy nature of it all. Thinks it suits you. "No pasta?"

"Oh," you enthuse when you realise what he was asking. "Was just waiting for you."

He apologises. Says you should have started without him. Says he wouldn't have minded it, and thanks you again for cooking. "Smells amazing."

Quick to throw on some clean clothes, Jeongguk shoos you out of the way when he gets back to the kitchen and finds you about to plate up. Insists he does it. You've done all the hard work. He's happy to wash up, but he wants to at least contribute now.

Jeongguk takes a single bite of the pasta before he stands up, retrieves the saucepan and a heat mat, then sets it down on the coffee table.

"You okay there?" you laugh, a little puzzled by him.

When he turns to look at you, as if you've betrayed him. "You never told me you could cook, B."

He had been expecting a regular, run-of-the-mill tomato pasta - nothing wrong with that, he would have enjoyed it - but this? Oh, this is as close to heaven as humans get through food. It's rich and spicy, but also a little sweet and tangy when it needs to be. The rigatoni is cooked just right. Just how he likes it.

"You can't?" You laugh, digging into your own bowl. Admittedly, it is banging. Your favourite comfort recipe, you're quietly overjoyed that he likes it.

He shakes his head to say no. Has always enjoyed cooking. Knows he'll have to make you his signature pork belly one day. If you end up staying tonight (which he's hoping you will, even if he is awful company at the moment), he'll cook breakfast.

"I can - I just... fuck me, Byeol," he almost moans. "This shit is good."

Jeongguk's always had a good stroke game, but when it comes to stroking your ego? Yeah, he ain't bad at that, either.

He also isn't bad at turning himself into a literal human hoover. It's a miracle he doesn't choke, or get heartburn. He's already nearly polished off the leftovers from the pan before you've even made it halfway through your bowl (of which he had filled to the brim, because portion control with a body like his doesn't apparently matter).

Pasta eaten - or in Jeongguk's case, absolutely demolished - he allows himself the luxury of switching off for the first time all week. Other than a quick gym session here and there, or coffee with Hayun towards the start of the week, he hasn't taken a moment to relax at all.

You're rabbiting on about something inconsequential, just letting him exist. You know it's been a hard week. The television plays in the background, big light turned off, your feet in his lap. He stokes a little mindlessly over your ankle, self-soothing for him and just as comforting for you. He's meant to be listening, but zoned a little while ago.

Initially, he was thinking about the weird moment between you both in the kitchen earlier, but tried to get it out of his head.

Ends up thinking about the BEM twat you mentioned earlier, instead. Thinks you've got horrible taste in men - or at least, in hookups. He knows both he and Jimin could be classified in that category, but he disregards that. Or at least, he disregards himself .

At least he makes you orgasm. If he asks, will probably be horrified by the amount of times you've gone without one during intercourse. It's not always, but often. Never with him though, which is nice.

Scares you a little bit. The idea of the best sex of your life being with someone who isn't romantically involved with you just doesn't sit right. What if you fall in love and Jeongguk is still the best you've ever had? Will you be comparing? It's a variable you're yet to test out. One that worries you.

But all Jeongguk can think about is the fact that you're his friend. And he cares about you. And he thinks you deserve to feel good. And knows he can do that. And that he wants to do that. And so, quite suddenly, Jeongguk interrupts you.

"Can I get you off?"

You almost choke on your own spit. Had been explaining a new discovery of ancient mammals using tools for hunting and cooking. Not the most enticing topic of conversation, to say the least.

"Sorry?" You laugh, taken aback by the sudden request.

He looks away. Looks at his hands. Looks back at you. Wishes he wouldn't let the impulsive thoughts win, sometimes.

But then, because apparently he's a fucking idiot with no self-control, he asks again. "Can I get you off?"

The answer is always, unabashedly, yes . You've been caught off guard though. Panic. Ask, "Why?"

He shrugs. Looks at his hands again, eyes wide, brows furrowed. Wants to pour boiling water in his ear to melt his brain. Would probably work better if it was mush, he thinks. A reply to your question sits on the tip of your tongue, but there are too many variations for him to choose from - Because you deserve it. Because I'm horny. Because I want to. - so he just says: "fun."

And, like, he's not wrong. It is fun. You just thought it would be the last thing on his mind, given how stressed and sleepy he's been.

"I mean, do you want to?" you laugh, a little hot beneath the shirts of his that you're wearing by the mere suggestion of it.

He shrugs. Thinks it's a stupid question. Nods. "Get your minge out."

The horror plastered all over your face wouldn't be out of place in a Hitchcock film.

"Get my minge out?!" You hiss, your repulsion only second to shock.

"Yeah," he smirks. Is deliberately being vulgar because it's funny, and he needs this to be anything but romantic. Will lose his fucking head if he starts thinking about stars and constellations and shit like that again - but fuck . Even after a shower, you're covered in glitter! He can never fuckin' win. Is in a constant state of war with his own head. How can he ever expect to win against the milky way in human form? You'll eclipse him one day, and he'll enjoy every second of it.

"It's almost like you don't want me to get wet," you tell him, as if you didn't feel a slight twinge in your stomach when he smirked. Wasn't your fault. His lip ring did the thing. You're only human. Was bound to happen.

"I think you're already wet," he says all rather plainly.

"That's beyond the point."

It's a satisfying answer. One that makes him feel all smug. Gets his cock a little twitchy.

"Look, I'm stressed, B," he admits. "There's so much going on in my head that I can't think straight. Getting you off is, like, a stress reliever."

You furrow your brows. "Surely getting yourself off is a stress reliever?"

"I can do that at the same time, if you want?" He says, cheeky in the way he raises his eyebrows and toys with his lip ring.

"You are such a boy."

"So is that a no?"

That's the thing about you and Jeongguk; you'll never reject him.

In fact, it's probably quite futile for his whole fear of rejection thing. That'll be a thought to battle with later, though.

"It's an 'ask nicely' ."

Jeongguk gently squeezes your ankle, before getting to his feet and piling the pasta bowls into a neat stack. "Let me just wash up, alright?"

You watch him as he walks away not even waiting for a response. He does it often; wants your approval of things he's already determined to do. It's sweet, in a way. Could be frustrating, given the right circumstances, but it hasn't been so far. You just kinda keep your gaze on him, confused at how a man so reserved and cautious in one moment can be so reckless and charming in the next.

"Byeol?" He hums, flicking on the tap and reaching for the dish soap.

"Hmm?" You hum right back.

"Go wait in my room."

It takes you a second or so to follow his commands. Earns a minuscule plea from him. "Please, B."

You can't refuse him. Not really. Never have been able to.

His room is still a mess. Glitter-tarnished pillows clue you into the fact that he hasn't washed his sheets since new years - but then you remember the fact he definitely changed the bottom sheet. Colour floods to your cheeks, memories of that night crashing to the forefront of your mind.

You try to forget about it. Forget the kisses. Forget the way it sounds when Jeongguk calls you ' baby '.

This? Now? Nothing more than a stress reliever. ' Fun '.

You neaten up his bed, and tuck the takeout boxes out of sight. Turn on his cosmic mood lamp, but leave the curtains open. You preen yourself in his mirror. Realise there's something missing, so retrieve the little pot of glitter from his shelf.

The remains of the day's glitter are all over your skin, but the shower had cleansed your eyes of it. Makes you feel naked. You hate it - so quickly stipple a little in your inner corners and beneath your lash line.

It's funny. When you take off the shirt of his that you're wearing, and toss it over the back of his chair a moment later, you don't feel naked. Feel perfectly yourself. A glitter girlie through and through.

Jeongguk stops in his tracks as soon as he reaches his door frame. You're standing on the other side of his bed, a coy smile on your lips

"Fuck."

His eyes are all over you, tongue wetting his bottom lip before his teeth press down on it. Something about your body really gets him. It's likely the memories - knowing how your skin tastes, how soft your tits are and how hard your nipples can get, the pressure of your lips on his neck - that gets him even stiffer in his sweats.

He really underestimated the consequences of telling you to get your minge out. Should have thought about that.

"You're gonna kill me one day," he mutters as you get onto the bed with almost feline elegance. He walks a little closer. Meets you by the corner of his mattress. Doesn't object as you palm him through his sweats. Sighs into your touch. "God."

Perfectly poised to suck his dick, you both know that you could. He wants it. Wants it so badly he can't even begin to articulate a request.

But it's not about him. Not even when your lips press pretty kisses against the outline of his cock.

He's making you cum. He has to. Will die if he doesn't.

"On your back," he husks. "Spread your legs for me."

There's a pout on your lips, but you do as he says. When your back hits his sheets, your tits pillow on your chest, perfectly round and desperately in need of his lips around your nipples. Legs open for him, one of your hands dips to your pussy while the other cups one of your boobs. Middle and forefinger spreading your wet lips for him, you feign a little innocence.

"This what you want?"

All he can do is nod, eyes transfixed on just how good you look. Wetness seeps from you, covering you in the most glorious sheen. You're always so wet for him. So ready. So willing.

You massage yourself a little for him. Toy with your clit. Whine probably more than you really need to.

Standing at the end of his bed, cock furiously hard in the strained material of his sweats, Jeongguk wraps his hands around your ankles. Yanks you further down his bed. Gets you all giggly.

He doesn't loosen his grip straight away. Instead, he lifts your legs. Rests your heels on his shoulders. Reaches down to squeeze your boobs. Grunts. "Fuckin' tits, man."

You're grinning, still. "What of them?"

He shakes his head. Grins, too. "Fuckin' corrupted me."

"You want them in your mouth again, don't you?" You tease - but are quickly put back in your place when Jeongguk sinks a finger into your hot cunt. "Fuck."

"Keep playing with yourself," he says, before getting all shy. He's about to admit how much he likes your tits. Again . As if you don't already know. Cringes. Tilts his head to the side, nose nestling against your foot. Smiles. Looks back at you with shame and sin all over his starry features. Sinks a second finger into you. "Yeah, I wanna suck them. So fuckin' bad."

His fingers are slow as they work their way into you. In. Out. Push. Pull. It's heaven. Slow. Deep. Just like Jeongguk's eyes and the way they study the pleasure on your face. He's taking his time.

You draw dainty little circles on your clit, not wanting to take the focus away from the feeling of his fingers. The combination is lethal; the furrowing of Jeongguk's brows a trigger that could set you off at any given moment.

Something about his work ethic really gets you. He puts his all into the things he does. Wants to be the best. Endeavours to always get top marks. The way he's cramming for his exam? Yeah. It's hot. His determination? His drive? So incredibly sexy. It comes as no surprise that he's got similar prowess for making you come undone. He reads your body. Understands that the tight closing of your eyes is pleasure, not pain. Knows that the flexing of your calves against his chest, the pointing of your toes by his ears, means he's stroking at the right spot; curling his fingers just right.

His spare hand strokes up your leg. Grips your ankle, his thumb lacing itself beneath your anklet. Your head pushes back into his sheets, spine arching for him.

"Yeah?" he encourages as he continues stroking up against your front wall. "Does it feel good?"

Eyes still closed, you nod. Whimper.

A little more pressure on your clit would make you come. You aren't doing it 'cause you want this feeling to last, but you're already so close. He knows exactly how to get you on edge. Finds your weak points and exploits them for his own pleasure; the satisfaction of giving you an orgasm.

"Good," he husks, pressing his lips against the side of your foot, just cause he needs to do something with them. Fucks his fingers into a little deeper. Slower. Is dulcet as he says, "wanna fuck you so bad."

"Do it," you whine. "Fuck me. Please."

You can hear the tiny little nose breath he does as a soft smirk graces his lips. Can feel them against your foot as he shakes his head and whispers, "no."

You whine. Pout. "Gguk-"

But then he builds speed. Is so fast you can barely breathe let alone speak. Makes your entire body shake.

"That's it," he keens. "Keep rubbing your clit. You're gonna cum for me."

"Gguk."

"You're gonna cum."

Thing is, it's not a command. It's an observation. He can feel you getting tighter; feel the familiar clamp of your hot muscles against his long fingers. Knows that this is what precedes heaven on earth.

All you can do is nod. "Gonna cum."

Your hips roll up into his touch, desperate to be as full of him as you can be. As you press down on your clit, the way Jeongguk shallows his finger to directly hit your g-spot has you mewling. His fingers are fast as he repeatedly motions them upwards, the knot in your stomach growing tight and tighter and tighter - until, gradually, eventually, but all very suddenly, the rope snaps entirely.

Your orgasm washes over you like tidal waves, throbbing walls tightening around Jeongguk's fingers, your spare hand grabbing at his wrist to both stop him and keep him in place. It's too much and not enough all at the same time. You continue applying pressure to your clit as writhe in his sheets.

Jeongguk watches on, jaw slack, eyes hungry. He could watch this all day; how the creases between your brows don't ease, not even when your lips curl into a smile. How your chest heaves, and your legs jolt. God. He wishes you were a part of his exam. He'd pass with flying colours.

"You good?" He asks a little too fondly, smiling down at you.

Laughing to yourself a little, you cover your eyes with your forearm. Nod. "Good."

But you're also not done.

There's a plethora of sticky notes on his wall, and you're pretty sure Jeongguk hasn't had a release in a fair few days. He needs this more than you.

And so when you tell him to pick a sticky note, he doesn't waste time. Goes for one at waist level - figures you probably put it up, not him.

Turning back to face you, the sticky note affixed to his index finger as he reads it, his brows furrow. Face contorts. Head tilts to the side.

"What the fuck is an erotic accordion?"

—

"I don't ever wanna see you in that position again," Jeongguk shudders, decidedly not finding anything erotic about being positioned like a fucking accordion.

The mechanics of it all just do not do it for him. It's not even so much the awkwardness of you, but himself. Didn't like seeing himself in that position. Has never been so aware of his own legs during a shag. Weirded him out.

You snort. "Please - I think it was the least sexually attracted to you I've ever been."

Jeongguk toys with his lip ring, tattooed arm folded across his chest, sheets pooling just beneath his belly button. Back against his headrest, all of his pillows are on the floor. They'd just gotten in the way earlier.

You're on your back, legs up against his headrest, both mirroring and subverting his position. On top of the sheets, you're wearing one of his shirts to cover your modesty.

"So you admit it," he teases with a raise of his eyebrows as you look over towards him. Wish there were still pillows on his bed so you could hit him with one. "You do think I'm hot."

"Not when you're positioned like that," you tease right back.

It's all in good humour. Neither of you are taking any offence. The whole point of these sticky notes is to find out what you do and don't like - the erotic accordion? Yeah. You'll file that one under 'not again'.

Although the more Jeongguk thinks about it, the more open he is to it.

"Felt pretty good, though."

The position, which had been one of your sticky notes, involved him laying on his back with his knees to his chest. The thought of it now makes you giggle. He looked quite cute, all things considered. Submissive. Shy.

He's got that pensive face of his on, looking straight ahead at his desk. There's an assignment open on his dual screens, and he does need to get back to it soon, but he's making the most of a short break with you.

His lips ring does the thing as he nibbles down on his bottom lip.

You move your leg a little to tap his head with your foot, getting his attention.

"Mhm?" he hums, eyes still unfocused.

"Did it really feel good?"

He nods. Looks at you now. Smirks, but tries to hide it. Shrugs his broad shoulders, collar bones catching on the light of his monitors. Dark outside, they're the only thing lighting up the room now that his lamp is turned off.

"Can't get that deep," he simply states. "There's, like, a lot going on around the tip. It's the most sensitive part, isn't it? So yeah."

You've always been a deep penetration girlie, but even you have to admit the shallowness of his cock pushing into only just your entrance before pulling out again felt really nice. Completely different to what you're used to - especially from him.

Glancing down his chest to where his hand rests over his crotch, you assess the situation. The sheets cover him, but you know he's a little hard beneath them.

You adjust slightly. Press your thighs together, heels against his wall.

With a hearty sign, you feign a little boredom. "Fine. I'll fuck you again."

"Sorry?" He almost giggles. Teeth on show, nose a little scrunched, he doesn't understand you, sometimes. Enjoys it, though. Likes how you aren't taking the sticky notes seriously.

It alleviates him of the pressure that would come with doing these things with anyone else, he thinks.

He knows that's the whole point of them - try these things with you, so that he doesn't have to fear rejection of asking for them with anyone else - but he's surprised at how well it seems to work.

Then again, he's not yet put any of them into practice.

Unaware of his complex thoughts, yours are far more simple: you're still horny.

The accordion really isn't all that erotic. You didn't finish. Didn't care for reciprocation, 'cause Jeongguk's got a wall full of sticky notes, and it's only just gone midnight. You know you'll be coming undone at least once more tonight - if Jeongguk's track record is anything to go by, it'll be plenty more.

Tapping his head with your foot again, you smile as his hand wraps around your ankle.

"Stop," he mumbles, nose resting on the top of your foot, lips pressing against the side of it.

You bite down on your bottom lip, a little flustered from heavenly his chocolatey eyes appear. He keeps his grip on your ankle and pulls it over his lap, encouraging your body to twist. Dragging you to straddle him, reverse cowgirl style, Jeongguk isn't shy about the fact he's hard again.

"You're so easy," you simper, slinking down like a cat, back a little arched, arms straight out ahead of you. His hands push his shirt up, and grips the soft flesh of your hips, pulling you a little further up his lap. You automatically find yourself grinding a little against him. Force of habit.

"Me?" He murmurs, gripping your ass now. He's a little rough with it. Fingers strong. You half think he's gonna spank you - but then he sinks his middle finger straight into your cunt. Still wet and wanting after the sex, Jeongguk enjoys teasing you. Likes keeping you keen. It's fun. He pulls the entire length of his finger out from you. Licks it clean. Keeps his hushed groan quiet. Fingers you again. Pulls out, again. The sound of him intruding and leaving is so satisfying. He does it again. Again, again. You're a little whimpery. "I'm the easy one?"

"Mhmm," you whine as he pushes into you again, still a single, long finger. He holds it there this time. "So easy."

The way you're positioned right now has him wanting to act on his ass-guy impulses. You kind of knew it would. He got you into this position far too easily for it not to have been something he's perfected over the years.

"Can I?" He husks, not wanting to ask the full question, hoping you'll understand.

You do. You know exactly what he wants. Wanna give him the green light without hesitation - but you're supposed to be helping one another.

"Ask properly," you say, voice contorted with the anticipation of pleasure. "Ask for what you want, Jeongguk."

"Mhh," he groans. The hand that isn't currently occupied with your pussy squeezes the soft mound of your ass. "I hate it when you make me do this."

It's almost like he's forgotten how often he makes you directly ask for things.

Your hips roll for him, Jeongguk's fingers still inside. Can't help but moan. "Gotta do it, Gguk. Gotta open yourself up for rejection."

He knows you won't say no. Knows rejection isn't on the table here, and yet he sort of worries about it, still. This is something he wants. Something he's expressed desire in; exclusively his.

Jeongguk lowers his head. Presses a kiss to where his hand was once squeezing your ass. Rests his forehead there. Groans.

"You know I want it," you husk, encouraging him. "All you gotta do is ask. Use your big boy words."

He just whines again. Is deliberately dramatic when he says, "Don't say shit like that, Byeol. I'll cum in my pants."

With a soft laugh, you turn back to look at him. Your faces are both partially obscured by the positioning of your body, but your eyes are able to meet. He's pouting. Eyes wide. Looks as if he's telling gospel truths.

"You're not gonna cum in your pants," you tell him, knowing he's a big fat liar. He's probably not even ready to go again, yet.

"No," he admits. "But I might die.

Rolling your eyes, you grin as you regain your former position. "So you want your dying words to be that of a coward, huh?"

He sighs. Knows you're right. Fucks his finger into you even deeper, stroking at your walls. Gets you a little whiney .

"Wanna eat your ass, " he gruffs, spreading your cheeks a little with his spare hand. You're on display for him, the tight muscle he's dying to get his tongue on just waiting there patiently; pristine. "Let me. Please ."

And then, quite unexpectedly, you free yourself from his grip. Pull away.

Turn to face him, and smile with a grin Jeongguk knows is trouble.

"No."

Lips hanging ajar, Jeongguk looks like he's just been hit in the chest with a paintball gun. He almost wants to question it - No? What do you mean no? - but he knows exactly what no means. Respects it. And yet he feels a little cheated.

"B..." is all he says, because, like, what the fuck? You'd practically been edging him. Forced him to ask .

"Gguk..." you tease back, obviously finding this far more amusing than he is.

His face is a picture, confusion contorting his features, silence speaking for him. It's the reaction you expected, but it makes you feel a lot more guilty than you had anticipated. It's not that you're trying to be a dick. You really did want him to do it.

But Jeongguk is also yet to face any form of rejection. The girls he's spoken to have been interested in him. Not once has he faced any sizable consequence to his questions or actions, and even though you know that asking to eat your ass isn't exactly the top of his issues, you have to reject him. Have to get him used to the feeling. Have to let him get comfortable with it.

He doesn't really know what to do. Purses his lips. Nods. Is obviously disappointed, but trying his best not to let it show.

You feel guilty. Come a little closer. Straddle his lap again, and guide his chin so that his gaze is directly on yours.

He resists at first. Is embarrassed. Feels all horrible inside. It's even worse that his cock is still hard. The entire thing is a bit mortifying. Doesn't wanna look at you, 'cause he feels stupid. Must have misread the situation. Idiot.

But he hadn't misread it all.

You hadn't planned on doing that. Just kind of had an impulsive thought - what if I do reject him? - and let it win.

"That was mean," he whispers so quietly that you almost don't hear it.

You nod, noses nudging against his. "It was."

"Say sorry," he pouts.

When you smile, a small giggle is held back. "I'm sorry. Should I kiss you?" you offer. He pulls you a little further up his lap. Makes you think a kiss is coming. "To say sorry?"

Closer, closer, closer. His nose nudges up against yours. He pauses. "No."

It's direct. To the point. Gets you in your chest a little. Rejection . Funny little thing.

"I wasn't trying to be a dick. There is a sticky note with it on, Koo," you begin to explain. Jeongguk hates how loopy that name makes his tummy feel. "It's gonna happen. I want it to happen."

Yet you didn't let it. He doesn't get it. Doesn't understand. It's a rare instance of your communication going awry.

"You made me ask," he mumbles, pouting. "And then you..."

You stay silent. Wait for him to figure it out. It takes only a second or so. You know he's cracked it when his thumbs begin to stroke against your skin like it normally does.

"And then I rejected you," you nod. Feel incredibly guilty about it now.

Living through rejection in times of vulnerability is important for him. He needs to process that it's okay; that rejection isn't automatic doom and gloom. That he can put himself out and not fear rejection - not because it will never happen, but because he can recognise that life goes on after it.

And it does. For now, though, he's still a little embarrassed.

"I hate that you did that," he says candidly, voice quiet, nose nestled against yours. Wants to stay close. Wants the comfort that comes with it. Eyes shut, his confidence feels shot to shit.

On a normal day, he'd probably not be so concerned about it all - however his emotions are running high. It's just the stress, but it's impacting all of his interactions.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"I know," he whispers right back. He genuinely does believe you are - but also believes you shouldn't have to apologise for saying no. "It's okay. 'No' is okay. You can say sorry for being a meanie, but that's all. Can't say sorry for saying 'no' , okay?"

Oh, you've never wanted to kiss him more. Give him the biggest, sweetest smooch for just being so inexorably endearing.

But you just nod. He'd said 'no' to kisses earlier.

Life goes on. Jeongguk knows this. Repeats it like an oath.

Life goes on. Life goes on. Life goes on.

"Two choices," he says. Pulls away a little. Wants to look in your starry eyes, and forget what just happened. "Choice one - we call it a night and get some sleep."

"Or?" you encourage, still feeling a little awful about the whole rejection thing.

"Or, choice two - you go and pick a sticky note, this time. We do whatever it says."

If there's one thing for certain, it's that you love a good redemption arc. Think this is a no-brainer. You hop off his lap without a second thought and pluck one off the wall at random.

Jeongguk bites down on his bottom lip as he watches you. His head is all over the place, but he knows one definite truth: you make things feel okay .

Embarrassment? It's null and void, with you. Sure, he feels it in the moment, but it always just simmers away. Disappears.

"So?" he asks, as you scan over the words of the note.

It's Jeongguk's handwriting. Is deserved, you think.

You turn it around for him to read, getting back into position on his lap. He welcomes you back, Holds your waist as you intrude on his personal space more - but is it really intruding if he's opening the door for you? Welcoming you in?

"Ah," he grins a little awkwardly. " That ."

" That ," you echo with a small giggle.

"You wanna do it?" he asks, a little cautiously this time.

You're so proud.

He opened himself for rejection again . He can do it.

With a nod, and every muscle in your body willing your lips not to kiss him, you say, "yeah. I do."

Jeongguk grins even brighter, now. Has stars in his smile. Thoughts of twenty minutes prior don't bother him anymore.

"Alright," he sighs a little, as if he isn't secretly really keen for what's yet to come. "Let's get it."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#bad decisions #jungkook smut

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marblemoonstones · 7 months

Text

stiletto 👠

summary: bangtan may think they’re the mafia kings, but little do they know you are the rising queen. mafia!au I apologize if there are any minor holes or grammatical errors. feedback is welcome, but please be respectful. :)

main masterlist

*any similarities to other fics are accidental*

bts x reader

mafia!au

*warnings: ❗️any characters in the story have nothing to do with their real life counterparts❗️f reader, use of ‘bitch,’ ‘ass’, ‘shit’ (still don’t know if it counts as a warning lol), mentions of killing (nothing happens), tae and kook threatened by reader (nothing happens), shooting of guns (no injuries)*

sorry I haven’t posted in forever 🥲 I’ve been so busy, but I’m still working on catharsis 🩵

this is just a silly little mafia one shot because I wanted to try something different. reader is a bad bitch bc I wanted her to beat bangtan in a fic for once ;) also pretty tame in terms of violence and such for a mafia fic. hope you enjoy!

word count: ~2.3k

Opening my eyes, I immediately sense that someone’s watching me. I pretend to not notice it, going about my daily morning routine. The cameras are subtle, but my eyes catch them quickly. These boys may be smart but I’m always one step ahead. I knew that they were going to watch/trail me the second I turned down their business proposal.

~ Two days ago

“Stiletto, you have a business meeting with Bangtan today,” my assistant tells me.

“Oh, it totally slipped my mind,” I say, knowing full well about the meeting. You have to act forgetful once in a while or else people assume that you know everything and don’t tell you anything.

“It’s in an hour in your office.” I nod at the reminder, and wave her off. Venus is a hard-working girl and not a snitch, so I’ve kept her around as my assistant. She knows the consequences of betraying me.

An hour passes by quickly, dealing with my product shipping and whatnot. I’ve been involved for a good seven years; in both the technology industry and the mafia. My technology is top notch, and this led many mafia bosses to want to buy my products. I’m happy to oblige, as this makes me a pretty penny.

A sharp knock on my door makes me smirk.

I call out, “Come in.”

Seven men dressed in suits enter and shut the door behind them.

Bangtan.

“Hello Stiletto, it’s good to finally meet you,” Kim Namjoon says cordially.

“Likewise. Now, let’s get to it. I’m a busy woman, so if you please, give me your deal.” My face is blank, eyes steely, scrutinizing them as they do the same to me.

(a/n, I didn’t go into specifics with the deal because I’m not good with that sort of thing, so sorry for being so vague :’))

I listen to their proposal, knowing from the first sentence that it’s not going to happen. At least, not with me. The deal has minor holes and could easily be executed with another company. My price is also not met.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Mr. Kim, but this isn’t going to work. Have a good day,” I dismiss them, seeing the looks of anger flash in their eyes.

“What do you mean it won’t work, Stiletto?” Min Yoongi asks, barely concealing his anger.

“Are you deaf? I mean it won’t work. Find another company. Goodbye.” I’m about to call for security, but they keep pushing on. Well. Looks like they have some bark in them. But I have more important things to be doing than entertain some boys and I know I’ll see them again soon enough.

“You’ll regret this later,” Park Jimin says, and before he can say more I interrupt.

“I know that I won’t. Goodbye.” And with that, I have security escort them out. Granted, they don’t put up much of a fight, but instead I see them clench their fists if only for a brief second. Good. They’re mad. I hope that they learned that I can be a bitch, exactly as everyone says.

Hence the nickname Stiletto. Stilettos may be pretty looking but they’re also powerful. I bet you’ve never seen someone walk in stilettos and not look like a bad bitch.

Ever since this nickname was given to me, I have worn a pair every day. Why not give the people what they want?

I had to kill everyone who knew my actual name, so now only a select few remain who know my actual name; Y/n.

~ Present Day

Bangtan is so mad that they are trailing me to try to find weaknesses to make me bend to their deal. Their attempt is almost comical. Almost. I don’t have weaknesses. Growing up in an orphanage led me to learn and figure out things by myself.

My black suit is waiting for me, and I slip on my signature stilettos. They have red soles, an exclusive one-of-a-kind shoe made especially for me. Little does the brand know that I made some alterations to the shoes. I made the tips be steel and each shoe has a small dagger hidden inside the stiletto.

My black purse is waiting and I check my inbox as I make my way downstairs and into my garage where my chauffeur is waiting.

The cameras inside the house have already been disabled, courtesy of Venus’s hacking skills. That girl is shaping up to me more and more like me everyday. I smile inside at the thought of toying with Bangtan. Some say they’re the most powerful mafia, even going as far to call them the ‘mafia kings’ but I know better than that. They may be more known in the industry, but my name is still influential and slowly climbing the ranks. I blame me being a woman for the reason why I’m not on top. Most of the mafia bosses think I’m just a pretty face who can’t be taken seriously. Someday I’ll destroy all their empires and watch them burn. (she says nonchalantly lol)

I get out of the car at my office and head inside. Venus greets me, showing me my schedule of the day. I thank her, the only person I ever do, and head off to my office. It’s a peaceful workday, considering that I haven’t had to hurt/kill anyone yet.

It’s around 2:00pm when I get a notification on my phone saying that there are two unidentifiable figures that breached our building. I dismiss getting security to investigate as I know that it’s Bangtan. Perfect. They’re coming just as I knew they would. I know it’ll take them about a half an hour to reach my office so I wait eagerly.

Half an hour later I’m sending an email when I can feel their eyes on me. Based on my research I can guess that it’s Jungkook and Taehyung in the vents. These two are the deadly duo and also the sneakiest.

While Yoongi and Hoseok are the best at weaponry, Namjoon and Seokjin are the best fighters (with Seokjin doubling as a doctor), Jimin is a master manipulator, and Taehyung and Jungkook are the stealthiest. Jungkook is their ace though, good at everything.

I internally feel giddy, but on the outside I pretend that I don’t notice them.

I let this go on for another half hour, knowing that they’re watching every move. So I send boring emails and don’t do any actually work. I already shut down their hacking and can’t wait to shut down their camera that’s been in my office all day. But that comes later in my plan.

After hitting send on another email, I start typing up an rsvp and say, “Boys, it’s time to come down now. I know you’re up there, so be good and come out.”

There aren’t any noises but I can tell that they didn’t expect this.

Bangtan doesn’t expect me to know their every move. I have tabs on all of them at all times, and they don’t know I know all their tricks in the book. Including trailing business owners who don’t accept their deals.

Since they aren’t responding, I decide to have some fun and use their names.

“Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook…the maknaes of Bangtan. Be good boys and come out, okay? We don’t want this getting out of hand,” I say sweetly, imagining their eyes widen at me calling them out by name.

I count slowly in my head…three…two…one…

Bang! The vents come open and they drop down silently behind me. I turn around in my chair and see the two culprits.

“Hello boys. Have a seat.” I say, leaving them no room for argument. They sit down and don’t speak. I know they’re searching for ways to escape, but I won’t let them. They’re not the only ones good at planning.

“Look, I’m not going to force you to talk about anything. But just know that you shouldn’t try to-“

Before I can finish Jungkook brings out a gun and fires it at me. I dodge it and pull out a gun of my own.

“Don’t even think about it buddy. I have dozens of weapons aimed at you that could fire at any moment, so sit your ass down.” This makes him slightly wary, and he lowers his gun.

“Give me your weapons boys,” I demand next, knowing that I could still win against them in a heartbeat but don’t want to take that chance.

They get them out for me but I notice Jungkook forgot two and Taehyung forgot one.

“Jungkook, give me the dagger in your hair and behind your ear and Taehyung, give me your ankle dagger,” I sigh impatiently.

They do as I say, surprised at my knowledge.

“Perfect. Good boys, thank you,” I praise, knowing that this makes them uncomfortable. And it works. Jungkook looks down slightly while I see Taehyung swallow.

I stalk over to the filing cabinet and pull out the camera recording all of this. I smirk slightly into it and place it down in front of the boys and I.

“Hello Bangtan, thanks for sending your maknaes to me. We’ve been having a jolly good time,” I say into the camera, noticing Jungkook and Taehyung exchange glances.

“Anyways, better come get them before something happens to them…that would be horrible,” I say, my tone a hint darker than before. Then I crush and destroy the camera.

I turn back to Jungkook and Taehyung.

“I’ll guess…thirty-four minutes until they come for you. In the meantime, do make yourselves comfortable. I have snacks and shit in the mini fridge if you’re feeling peckish. But don’t try anything!” I singsong, going back to my desk.

They look at each other, confused at what’s going on. One second I’m threatening them the next I’m offering them food. I ignore their looks and continue typing and responding to emails.

Precisely thirty-four minutes later the rest of Bangtan comes bursting through my office door.

“Where are they?!” Namjoon booms, gun in hand.

“They are right there,” I say, pointing to the two boys who haven’t moved from their sitting positions.

I see Bangtan freeze, if only for a split second. I know that they’re shocked I didn’t harm them/tie them up somehow.

“Did you do anything to them? Because if you did, I swear to god Stiletto I’ll-“

“Calm down Hoseok, can’t you see they’re unharmed?” I state boredly, gesturing to the maknaes.

“It’s true Hobi,” Jin says, rushing over to inspect his babies.

“Aw, such a happy reunion,” I say, then sharpen my tone. “Looks, you idiots need to learn that no means no. I don’t want your business deal, so stop trying. It’s not working.”

“You sure, Stiletto?” Jimin asks me, a calculating grin on his face, “Because it seems to me that you care a lot about our babies, not even harming them. What does that show?”

I roll my eyes. “Jimin, quit it. Your tactics don’t work on me.”

“Ooh, feisty. I like you, Stiletto,” Jimin says, sidling up to me and putting his arm around my shoulder.

Quick as a wink I take his arm off my shoulder and twist him so we’re now face-to-face.

“Isn’t it obvious? I like you too Jimin,” I say, staring deep into his eyes. Oh how I love toying with them.

He falters for a millisecond then regains his composure and licks his lips.

“Great, so let’s make a deal-“

“You silly boy,” I push him away much to his dismay, “I already told you, no means no. Now, get out of here before I shoot you all.” I’ve had my fun and it’s time for them to go.

“Look, Stiletto, we don’t mean to cause issues with-“

“Trailing me? Putting cameras up in my own home and office? Attempting to hack my technology? Sending your babies to spy on me? It seems that you have caused issues. While I like to mess with you, I’m done playing.” I’m dead serious as I look them each in the eye.

“Get out of my sight and don’t bother trying to contact me again. I’m done with Bangtan. Oh, and keep in mind that I know more than you think,” I warn.

“Like what?” Namjoon scoffs, not believing me.

“I know that you and the rest of the boys have feelings for each other,” I say casually, noticing their looks of shock, “What, you don’t think I noticed? It’s pretty obvious to me and honestly you’re all perfect for each other anyway.”

“But…no one knows that…” Jin stammers, showing the first sign of weakness since their arrival.

“Look, I’m not a snitch when it comes to that topic, so I won’t tell anyone, but you best believe I know so much more,” I say, watching them all breathe a small sigh of relief.

“Okay, point made Stiletto. We’ll leave you alone.” Namjoon caves, nodding to the rest of the boys.

“Great, now get out.” I point to the door and they all file out.

Ever since my spy in Bangtan told me that they were planning on meeting with me, I planned on the outcome.

I knew their deals were usually good at hiding the holes, so I took the liberty of finding out what deal they were going to offer to me. It wasn’t bad from the outside but I knew that in the end it would benefit them more than me.

I knew they wouldn’t accept my ‘no’ so I planned on them following me. Taehyung and Jungkook coming wasn’t a surprise in the least and I knew that revealing their biggest secret would make them leave me alone.

I now hold power over the ‘mafia kings.’

That makes me be able to control all the groups in my area.

Perfect.

Now I can grow my empire and slowly but surely take over and show everyone who their mafia ruler really is.

The mafia queen, Y/n.

sorry for kinda rushing through this. it’s not perfect but I just love the scenario! anyways, as always, thanks for reading! 🩷🫶🏼

#bts #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 bts #btsot7 #mafia!au #bts mafia au #bts mafia fic #bts mafia imagine #badass reader #marblemoonstones

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min-hoax · 1 year

Text

package deal - jhs

“I don’t want none, I just want you. If I can’t have you… no one should.”

Summary: Hoseok cannot stand the sight of you moving on, so he takes matters into his own hands…

Pairing: Yandere! Hoseok x F! Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warning(s): Obsession, stalking, he’s delusional & creepy, mentions of therapy, murder, LITERAL murder, kidnapping, mentions of suffocating, mentions of a knife and drugging.

A/N: Hobi, i love you. 😍 This is such a short fic, but the inspo hit and I couldn’t wait to let it out! 🥹 Inspired by SZA’s Kill Bill (literal chefs kiss song, I love it so much and have it on repeat that my ears are tired of me) & You’s Joe Goldberg crazy ass. Lemme know what you thought!

Hoseok was fucked.

You clung to his mind, perilously compelling him to desire what no longer was his as you continued with your life, leaving him with nothing but the shackles of you he could no longer be free of.

When your absence forced him into a miserable life where he could no longer function as he used to before you, he seeked help. A colleague of his noticed his behavior, dark under eyes prominent despite the concealer, his usually cheerful mood gone. So Namjoon, ever so happy to refer him to his therapist, gave Hoseok the information and off he went.

But despite the constant reminder from Dr. Kim that there were other women, millions of them waiting to be courted by his handsome face, the thought of you never vanished.

So he followed you.

Innocently, of course. Staying away enough for you to continue life without knowing he walked a few feet away from you with his hands in his pocket and thick, black sunglasses on his eyes. Your arms were wrapped around the waist of Min Yoongi, a barista good for nothing man.

But you looked happy, content.

Why couldn’t you be happy with him instead?

If I can’t have you, no one should.

It wasn’t sudden when the menacing thoughts stood at the center of his mind. He welcomed them instead of pushing them back as he once did before the intense fury you created swallowed him whole.

I might, I might kill my ex… not the best idea. Her new boyfriend’s next…

That, he was for certain.

He’d take Min Yoongi, wrap his arms around his pale throat and thrive with malice as his life slipped through his eyes.

He’d never killed anyone before, but how hard could it be? To be born is to die, young or old, preferably young in your shiny new toy.

Hoseok didn’t know where it all went wrong. He swore it was perfect, you were perfect until you said those two forbidden words and broke his heart. The little you had taken into his apartment, you packed in a day, leaving with a peck to his head and walking out of his life. It took everything inside of him to not grab you and hold you tight to his grip and desperately beg for you not to do what he thought you’d commit.

Gone were the days of holding each other close, clinging to the future you both spoke about, the mornings and breakfast in bed, him driving you to work and back and although it didn’t seem like a lot to you, it meant everything to him because the time spent with each other was precious and he held it close to his heart.

He knew it wasn’t healthy, messaging you, starting slowly then gradually until you blocked him. How could you? How could you possibly do such an act?

It’d be weird seeing Hoseok inside a hardware store, after all he wasn’t the type of man to be creative, but yet the cart before him was full of things one would need to create… a part of a home.

You signed your sentence once you took away the only thing where he could communicate with you. It irked him, thinking of the things you could be doing with your new lover whilst he suffered in silence.

With a sight he admired his art. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep you entertained until you finally loved him again and could continue the life you promised. He knew you did deep down in that pure little heart of yours, you just needed a reminder that he was all you needed and this little act of rebellion was just a terrible thing you did.

If anything you should be grateful! He planned to kill you, but no, he loved you too much, too strong to put a hand on you out of anger. The only touch you’d ever feel from him would be from the intense love he’d give you for the rest of your life.

Now I’m in the basement, planning home invasion…

The basement will be your home, for now. You had everything you needed: a bed, and a desk where you could draw and paint to your heart's content, various books that he observed you read continuously.

In his eyes, it was perfect. He’d provide for you if you behaved, and if you did not, he’d take.

It was as simple as that and you were a smart girl, he knew you will understand.

After all, you didn’t have much of a choice, but you would!

It was too risky to invade your home, which is why he caught you and Yoongi while hiking. The two of you were so silly, it was almost amusing. It was almost too perfect. You both offered yourselves to him on a silver platter without notice.

“Shh, my love, you’ll hurt your beautiful throat.” He whispered, arm wrapped around your waist as the other one cupped your mouth. The sight of Yoongi knocked unconscious caused you to scream out of horror from what Hoseok was doing. “Now, all I need is for your precious self to go to sleep. Can you do that for me, beautiful? Hm?”

“Shh, don’t fight it baby.” You were desperate, but he was stronger and with every breath you took, the rag to your nose made you fall into euphoria and into the arms of your frenzied in love ex.

Was it chilling of him to watch you as you slept? With warm hands, he caressed your chest as it rose, your eyes shut in comfort. But that didn’t last long since you awoke, immediately trembling and desperately dragging your body away from Hoseok who sat at the end of the bed, looking at you with eyes that made you shiver.

The chain around your ankle made you cry out, pulling at it with all the strength inside of you. “What is this!” What is this, Hoseok! Let me go!”

Hoseok pouted. “What? No more “Hobi?” No more “my love? You wound me, beautiful.”

“Please! You cried, clutching the sheets as you looked around, then clutching your mouth with shaking hands and then your head. “This isn’t happening, - this isn’t happening.”

“Oh, but it is.” He moved slowly as he approached you, immediately taking you in his arms whilst you fought in his hold. “Did you really think you could walk away from me? That I’d let you go that easily? You and I?” He chuckled. “We’re perfect for each other, didn’t you agree?”

“Before, Hoseok. Before you started to want to control my life. That isn’t perfect.”

Hoseok was kind, that’s what drew you to him in the first place. He gushed with happiness and he made you smile and laugh like no other. But yet, as the months passed by, you realized that he wasn’t what the man he seemed to be. There was a darkness hidden beneath: a glare here and there to everyone who looked your way, the blocking of phone numbers he did on your phone while you slept, and the list went on.

The man standing before wasn’t so much of a surprise, but fear consumed you because you never thought it would happen to you.

Oh, god, never to you.

He sighed and whined. “I know, but I can’t help myself! Was it wrong of me to want to protect you and see if the people around you were good for you? That is being perfect, baby.”

“Let me go! Let me go you sick fuck!”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” With a shove, he dropped your body on the bed, standing up and onto the concrete ground while you laid there, sobbing.

He was on a mission as he climbed the stairs, dragging Yoongis’ drugged body, not caring as he groaned with every hit he took as they both climbed back down. Like an offering, he shoved your boy toy on the ground, Hoseok hovering with a knife to his throat.

I did it all for love…

“I know you don’t love him, which is why you’ll say goodbye to him, right here and now. I’ll give you ten seconds.”

“Hoseok! Please, -“ you sobbed, desperately clinging to the chains on your leg and pulling will all your might. “ - don’t, please, please!”

I did it all for us…

It killed him to see you in tears, but you had to understand! The man on the ground stood in the way of your love and he would never work with that.

Never.

It was easy dragging the knife through his throat, but your shrieks were loud and piercing through his ears.

It was a good thing he soundproofed the walls.

“Shh, quiet baby, I know, I know.” He cooed, wrapping you in his arms as you cried for mercy, your eyes unmoving from the body laying mere feet away from the both of you.

“You should be glad! I thought both of you a package deal and if I didn’t love you, you’d be lying right next to him! Isn’t that great?” The bright smile you fell in love with seemed nothing but a terrible thing to see.

It was glorious, it was grand.

It was proud.

“You should’ve known better. I’d rather be in hell than alone.”

#yandere hoseok #yandere hoseok x reader #yandere hobi #yandere hobi x reader #yandere jhope #yandere jhope x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere kpop #yandere kpop x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #bts x reader

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koishiro · 9 months

Text

Pussy power | 방탄소년단

↳ SUMMARY: having to teach the lowest and failing class in school, you have to find a way to keep their attention and their grades up but it won’t be easy

↳ PAIRING: students!min yoongi, jung hoseok, park jimin, kim taehyung, jeon jungkook x teacher!reader

↳ GENRE: smut with plot

↳ CW/S: mentions of porn, age gap, stripping, protected sex, oral (male receiving)

Part 1 | 2

main masterlist | kpop masterlist | upcoming anon asks

I gulped as my pen scratched out my signature, as easy as that.

They had me now. There was no going back. What the hell had I done?

I realised my first mistake when they reminded me that I had to show my legs again every Friday afternoon until the exams.

"It is in the contract Miss, under Miss L/n duties“ Jungkook reminded me.

"I don't remember seeing that: And "contract!" where did that come from? I cried with mock indignation. "It's just a paper isn't it? What are you, budding lawyers?"

Yoongi had just rolled his eyes in response, "Well, anyway, it's there alright“

They showed me. They were right. There it was, the bottom of the page. It was my fault for not reading the damn thing properly. (Miss Lushbody messes up)

But, secretly I was very pleased that I was going to be doing it. They had been working hard and I needed to keep the carrot dangling. Keep them interested and all that. So, that's what I started to do for them every Friday at 4.00. (After the bell)

It kept them back a bit, but, there was always full attendance: The girls always got away quickly, so they never knew about the boys’ little treat.

And, I must confess that I loved doing it. My justification being that It helped to keep my boys in line. Each time I did it, I shifted my skirt up a little higher, much to their delight. Showing more and more of my shapely long legs. And sometimes, if I was in the mood, they got a brief glimpse of my panties. They all liked that. And while they headed home, I rushed into the ladies again to finger my clit and pussy. Oh God, even a mini-display like that was working me up. And, as the boys rightly pointed out, it was good practice for the full strip which, I could be doing for them later in the year. I just had to think about that possibility and I got really excited...

The weeks rolled on and Easter came and went. I gave out stacks of homework for them to do over the holidays and despite cries of protest, everybody handed in the work. It was fantastic.

Amazingly, we got through a full year curriculum in less than 4 months. I had ticked off all the boxes and when the Ofsted inspectors arrived, they were reasonably impressed. I was proud of my class. They had backed me all the way and when the official report came through there was even a little mention of what a good job I had been doing.

"How on earth have you managed it?" Asked a puzzled, but, appreciative Namjoon one day when he called me in for a chat.

"Oh, we found some common ground," I was able to say. And, of course, it was the truth.

"Well, however you've managed it, you've done a fabulous job" he said.

But, then he didn't know about my promise to do a striptease.

The GCSE exams came round and soon it was just a case of waiting for those results.

With more time on my hands, I started to watch that porn video again; watching it over and over again. I was beginning to enjoy the end a bit more. The part where they all got to fuck her, one after the other...I noted the ecstatic look on Miss Lushbody's face. Brilliant acting? or was it real? It looked damn real to me. Usually, I was naked after copying her striptease routine. And now, I couldn't seem to stop masturbating afterwards.

Did I really want to do the striptease for my boys, together with the "other stuff?" That was what I was thinking about as I toyed down below. I knew I would be very disappointed if I didn't get the chance.

Then, the results came through and were posted on a big board in the school's reception area. There were the usual mixed emotions of joy and tears as the pupils gathered around. My heart was thumping wildly. How had they done? I was desperate to know but I couldn't bear to look. If they had all failed I would be so disappointed and not just for academic reasons. So I just went back to the classroom.

After a short while, my lot came back into the room and from the way they were grinning, I knew they had done well.

I got that pounding in my heart again, as one by one they told me what they'd recieved. My throat went as dry as dust.

I wrote it up on the blackboard. Most of them had achieved C grade passes. That's when I knew for certain that my fate was sealed.

Min Yoongi 7/ Jung Hoseok 4/ Park Jimin 5/ Jeon Jungkook 6/ Kim Taehyung 4/

It was incredible, because, my class had achieved no less than 25 GCSE grade C's not to mention a lot of other lesser grades. My headmaster and all of the staff were astounded. "How did you do it?" They all asked.

I reckoned that all this success wouldn't do my career any harm at all.

But, all I could think about was the realisation that now I would have to do the striptease for my class. I would have to display my naked body for them all to see. As Jimin had so delicately put it, they would get to see "tits, legs, pussy, everything."

Soon, they would be able to get a real good look at it and see for themselves. As I had that thought, I bit my lip and flushed with shame. What was I thinking about? Me, an older woman, no less a teacher, exposing her private parts for young boys to drool over? I hoped to hell no one ever finds out: But, as for calling it off? No way. I couldn't wait to display myself. I was looking forward to it as much as my boys did.

Although, I had started out with a "no-nonsense" short hair style at the beginning of the school year, I had purposely let mymy hair grow to shoulder length in the last couple of months. I wanted to look more like the porn star in the video I was obsessed with. Also, for my forthcoming performance, I had a plan to put it into braids like she did and this was because I thought it looked sexy and would excite my male audience. And, copying her again, I would also be wearing 4 inch heels to make my legs look longer and sexier.

Someone shouted something out and it broke me out of my thoughts.

I knew what they wanted.

Now that the euphoria of their successes had died down, my forthcoming performance was all they wanted to talk about. When and where was it going to happen?

Jungkook, my brightest pupil according to his grades, had an answer for that one too.

"Miss, there's a pub not far from here that has a room they use as a small concert hall. It's very private and you can have a lock-in. You could do it there!”

I considered this and like the others realised that it was an excellent idea. I had been worried for a while at the prospect of doing it in the classroom. There was a strong chance for us to get caught on school premises and that would have been the end of my teaching career. There was further discussion on details and I told him to book up the room. I even gave him some money to do it and a bit more for some booze.

Jungkook said the landlord would let us do a lock-in and keep it strictly private, if we bought the booze and hired the venue from him. "It's just an end of college celebration," Hoseok piped in. And, seeing that everyone there would be 18+ on the night, it was all legal and above board.

So...everything was arranged.

It struck me how good Yoongi was at taking charge. I was his teacher and at 27 I was 9 years older than him, but, he always seemed one step ahead.

"What do you think?" He said. "Start at seven? I'll make sure the place is tidy and organise some chairs for your... erm... customers. There's also a changing room out back”

Was there anything this guy hadn't thought of? No wonder he had done so well in the exams.

The night of the striptease came around, finally. By then, I was desperate to do my act. Anytime I had the chance, I had gotten in some practise. Miss Lushbody was getting competition.

.☆.

I was so nervous, as I drove down to the pub that night; nervous, but very excited. A couple of the boys -Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok- met me at the door, said I looked sensational. That gave me a boost, because, I had spent ages getting my hair and make-up just right.

It was 6.45 p.m. I knew that because I had looked at my watch about 6 times on the way over. On the back seat, I had my stuff. I had fished out my old graduation hat and cape for my act, as I wanted to look exactly like Miss Lushbody. Underneath, I would have a bodice, stockings and suspenders together with a pair of sexy black lace panties. I was ready, God was I ready.

I checked the place out. It was perfect and just as Jungkook had described. Yoongi had also tidyed up as promised and there was a front row of chairs positioned close to a small elevated stage. Music was already playing and I was informed that the piece I was going to use for my striptease was ready when I was.

My audience was all there waiting, and, no doubt pleased to see that I had turned up and was going through with it.

Jimin padlocked the door to the big room. We wouldn't be disturbed. We had the landlord's promise.

"Oh God, please get me through this" I prayed, as I went into the small changing room near the back wall.

I checked my make-up in the mirror again, still perfect and not a hair out of place. Taking a deep breath, I took off my street clothes and donned the outfit.

I was ready. Opening the door slightly, I gave the signal for the music to start, Then, I went out onto the stage. Suddenly, a spotlight came on. It was like I was a professional, although, I had never done it in public before. However I was confident, that all that practise copying Miss Lushbody was going to see me through.

The guys cheered and gave me a big round of applause. That gave me more confidence. I knew then that they were on my side.

Beforehand, I had reminded them again that there were to be no photos or videos taken. It was something that had been agreed upon earlier in proceedings. I had too much to risk otherwise.

Then the music started and I started to dance to it as I had practised many times. I had copied the sexy movements of Miss Lushbody and she was one of the best I had ever seen.

The act went well and very smoothly. I got everything right, every move perfect. First the cape then the hat came off. Then swaying and dancing as I undid the zip at the back of the bodice. My slim, shapely figure was revealed. Also, there was now a lot more female flesh for the boys to savour. The excitement in the room seemed to be rising and I was enjoying myself, more than I ever thought I would.

Then, teasing them, I took off my bra. I received murmurs of approval followed by wolf whistles. I was feeling great and in control. They liked my tits; "quite a handful" was how they put it.

Then, I put my foot up on a chair and began to unfasten my stockings. Nice and slow as I did, just like Miss Lushbody. Then, seductively, I slid the stockings down each leg. More whistles of admiration, but, I knew already that they liked my long shapely legs. They had said so many times when I had done the sample treat for them in the classroom.

Now, I was standing there in just my panties and high heels. Time for more teasing as the music continued to provide real atmosphere. The lighting obviously helped (well done Jungkook)

Then I had them spellbound, as, slowly and tantalisingly I eased down the panties.

"Oooh" they shouted as my pussy came into play. Proudly, I stood with my long legs planted apart to let them have a look: A good, long look. Everyone present seemed to be focused hard on my pussy, as I felt their eyes burning into me. Erotic shivers trembled through me as I thrust my pussy meaningfully towards the boys. They inched closer, heads grouped together; within sniffing distance, as they say.

"Look at your teacher," I was effectively saying look at her cunt. "I am exposing my most private parts for you”

I felt myself getting wet and knew with certainty that I would be heading down the same erotic path as a certain pornstar.

As a matter of fact, I couldn't wait to be their sexual plaything. I had developed that kind of emotional feeling for all of them.

To finish off, I turned round and went on all fours pushing my ass up and out; spreading my knees to give them the maximum view of my ass and pussy. What a sight I must have presented to those horny young men. By doing this, I was going well beyond what I had planned to do, but, I was desperate to bare my full femininity to them. It was, in effect, the erotic surrender of this 27 year old teacher, to her young male pupils.

"Stay like that Miss," Taehyung barked out and I was glad to comply with the order. I held my pose knowing they would be staring hard at my girly charms. I sighed, happy to expose myself to my young male students. It was what I had fantasised about ever since the idea of a striptease had come to me.

At that moment, I had never been so excited in my whole life.

After that, they were lining up to get at me and to be honest I found it almost Impossible to choose between them. I liked them all...wanted them all.

But, Yoongi with his top exam result was first.

"Steady boys. We've got all night." shouted Hoseok. He was right, I wasn't going anywhere.

That was when I reminded them all about condoms. It was a subject that I had repeated often enough to them during sex education and they had come well prepared.

As Jungkook was kissing me, I felt his fingers on my pussy "Oooh" I groaned. This boy could do anything he wanted to me. The others would see me allowing his advances, but, I didn't care, the striptease had got me so horny I needed lots of sexual attention.

I let Jungkook have a quick feel, but, the clamour from the boys I had worked up to a frenzy, all wanted a piece of me. Before he was pushed away, I whispered that he could have me later and he was happy with that. Also, it was something for me to look forward to.

And, It was all out in the open now. The boys knew that sex was well and truly on the agenda and that I was up for anything. Rotas, papers, contracts were out the window now. As far as I was concerned they could all fuck me. I was a bitch in heat.

They were all grabbing me at once, but, Yoongi stepped in to sort them out. He was commanding without having to say anything, they weren't going to mess with him. He commandeered me then for his own sexual use by taking me back into my dressing room.

When we got there, I noticed with dismay that all my clothes were gone. There was no way I was getting out of there anytime soon.

Yoongi unzipped and took out his impressive cock. It was thick and fully erect and looked about 7 inches long. I purred with pleasure as I took in in my hand. This was just what I needed. He stood me against the wall and I spread my legs apart. My pussy was so wet I hardly felt him pushing it in to me. He was going to be the first to fuck me and probably not the last.

"Oh, Oh, Yoongi~" I gasped as he pushed in. All the way in.

"I've wanted to fuck you for months Miss L/n", he said reminding me that I was in fact their teacher. But, at that moment it was the last thing on my mind. I was getting very excited sexually and nothing was going to come between that.

Before I could think of anything else, Yoongi kissed me, his tongue snaking inside my mouth and finding mine. Meanwhile, his big cock continued to dominate and ravage my pussy. It was such a size and he was intent on giving me full measure. In and out, In and out he hammered into me. I was getting the best fuck I'd had in many a long day.

" Hurry up in there" someone shouted - likely Jimin, but, Yoongi just kept on fucking me with piston- like thrusts.

"Oh Yoongi," I moaned, as he kept on bouncing my ass off the wall.

"They'll just have to fucking wait," he growled. "’Teacher is mine”

He came, minutes later, with a triumphant shout as I felt his cum spurt inside. As he took his condom clad cock out, I leaned back against the wall and groaned. What a fuck that had been, one of the best I’ve had.

Then Jimin came to take me up on my promise. "I've found a room," he told me. I didn't hesitate to go with him. At that moment I would have followed him anywhere.

It was a small first aid room, but, with a bed in the corner. Trust him to have cleverly sussed it out.

"Is this part of the pub," I asked fearing he had found another entrance.

"Sort of," he said "but, it's within the locked area”

There was a fresh cover on the bed as he lay me down on it. Somehow, I felt that I would be spending a lot of time in here before I would be able to leave.

First he had a good feel of my naked body. Kissing the parts he liked best. And he liked a lot. "What a fantastic body you have Miss," he growled.

"Jimin~," I sighed.

I had looked forward to him ravaging me like this and he didn't disappoint. His hands seemed to be everywhere.

Then he spread my legs and worked two fingers into my slippery cunt before fucking them in a slow but steady piston like rhythm. I swooned in ecstasy...

"I've dreamt about doing this to you Miss every night since you first mentioned the idea of stripping”

"You can call me Y/n now, Jimin, since school is over now-“

"No"...he said adamantly. "It's got to be Miss or Teach. Keep the fantasy going you see”

I understood, only too well.

And then Jimin fucked me, taking his sweet time about it and telling me how much he had lusted after me ever since I had shown my legs in the classroom. Our sex coupling lasted a while before he came with a shudder and a long groan.

"What about a date then Miss," he asked cheekily, "just you and me?"

I looked into his eyes and didn't say no.

Just then, there were little taps on the frosted glass window. "You're in big demand lady," I heard Hoseok shout.

After Jimin, I had Jungkook. He was so shy that he hesitated to make eye contact with me. The poor thing couldn't get it up. "Aawww," he said in frustration.

"You're all tensed up" I told him. "Just relax. It will come”

I let him fondle my breasts for a while until his cock finally sprung to life. "I've never had a blow job", he confessed. "Would you give me one?" I duly obliged.

As soon as my lips touched the tip of his cock, it went really hard. It was a big cock, similar size to Yoongi’s and I soon found that I had trouble fitting most of it in my mouth. I gave it plenty of loving attention, using my expertise to lick, suck and excite him. This boy was in ecstasy, but, soon found it all too much. In a short time he was spurting his stuff into my mouth. "Swallow it," he hissed and obediently I let his white cream slide down my throat. Oh God, he was so cute...I so wanted to please him.

Jungkook couldn't wait to get in the room. I had been aware of him pacing with impatience just outside the door. He was already fully erect, so this time, he lay down and I squatted down on top to take in his cock. As we got going, I bounced up and down taking his erection all the way in. This way I dictated the fuck. As we built up a steady rhythm he reached up and groped my tits. My nipples stood out proud as they usually did with handling like this. As we fucked I threw back my head and moaned...it was so good.

"Go for it Kook!" were the words shouted through the doorway. They thought he was giving it to me real good and proper. Well it was his ramrod cock that was impaling me so I suppose they were right. But I was in control and loving every second of it. "Stay hard" I urgedmd him as I kept up the action. Why was fucking so wonderful? It was heavenly and lasted a good while before he reached his climax.

Oh God! I remember thinking, I had to have him again...

Taehyung wanted me next. Jungkook had hardly left the room before he was bustling his way in. "I want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, Teach," he announced. "You've lectured me with it often enough this year. Now it can do something useful for a change”

"But do it good," he warned as I took his hard cock in my hands and gladly started to suck. It was a bigger than Jimin’s, but, wisely, I didn't say so because ears might be listening and the boy himself might be standing right outside. So, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of having that big thing in my mouth. Lovingly, I licked the length of the shaft, before I got down to a rhythmic sucking motion. I tried to make it last, but, soon Taehyung was shuddering and I felt him about to explode. Then I got it all, as a jet of cum cascaded into my mouth and throat.

Taehyung ordered me to swallow..."every last drop" But I was doing that already. I gulped it down, spurt after spurt, before licking my lips. Yummy.

I thought about how many cocks I had seen to since my strip and did a count. "Where's Hoseok" I asked.

He was sitting in a daze in the front row. His eyes fixed on the stage and nursing a pint of beer. As if hoping I was going to do a repeat performance.

He turned his head when he heard me. "Hello Miss," he said. "Don't forget me, will you”

As if I would.

"I ain't had my fuck yet, Miss", he said reminding me in a husky voice. "And seeing how you went on your hands and knees and pushed your ass in the air, I fancy having you doggy style..."

Frank found a worn old sofa and turned it round so he could drape me over it. It was just the right height for a rear entry, my curvaceous ass so tempting. I was like a rag doll as he spread my legs apart and had a well - deserved feel of my thighs and bum.

"Go for it Hoseok," I urged. After all he had been patiently waiting while the others had been having fun. But, now, it was his turn to get sexily intimate with his teacher and he announced his intention to give me a damn good fucking.

I felt his big cock penetrate my wet pussy and sighed happily in surrender letting it happen. He humped me good and proper, his powerful thrusts nearly lifting me off balance. I hung on desperately, as his big cock plumbed and ravaged the depths of my pussy with devastating effect.

Everyone else just stood and watched. No doubt admiring his cockmanship and watching me getting well and truly fucked.

My inevitable orgasm came, like a tidal wave, as Hoseok’s relentless fucking sent me over the edge. With all the sexual attention I had been having, I suppose that this rare event for me had been inevitable. I was told later that my unbridled scream of ecstasy filled the room, as everyone stopped and watched my complete and utter sexual degradation.

I was their disgraced slut of a teacher.

I am ashamed to say that my vows and responsibilities as a teacher were swept aside that night as, one by one, the boys in my class lined up and sexually used me again and again. It went on ‘til closing time and beyond. At the end I was "literally" fucked out. Second time around, the pace was slower and they enjoyed me more. They respected each other's time with their teacher. Lots of kissing and feeling as the night wore on.

They were very good after that, I have to say. My clothes were returned and I stuffed my stripper outfit into a carrier bag. I managed to get my make-up and general appearance back to something normal and the boys chipped in for a taxi to take me home. Hopefully, the excited flush on my face would die down a bit before I had to face the public eye.

Before I left, six telephone numbers were pushed into my pocket. They didn't want to lose touch, they said. All of them wanted to see me again.

And that pleased me to no end, because, after all that had happened between me and my five boys, I too wanted to keep in contact.

As I sped off home in the taxi, I wondered idly what next year's class would be like.

Part 1 | 2

Date posted: 17/08/23

𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

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shina913 · 1 year

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On Tilt, Part 3 | KNJ

On Tilt, Part 3

Definition: a poker term for a state of mental or emotional confusion or frustration in which a player adopts a suboptimal strategy, usually resulting in the player becoming overly aggressive.

On Tilt Masterlist

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞

Genre: idol!AU; strangers-to-FWB-to-lovers; toxic relationship; angst; fluff; smut

Warnings: unhealthy/toxic relationship dynamic; cussing; vulnerable confessions; alcohol consumption; explicit and suggestive sexual conversations; jealous!Namjoon; Namjoon at the gym; ttam-Joon 😅; ass-slapping (not in a sexual context); drop of fluff; unexpected boners (I think that's it?)

Summary: You’ve said time and time again that you wouldn’t lose yourself to him. You were in control now. You were going to make better choices. For a minute there, you were able to keep up with it. It wasn’t ‘til Namjoon’s extended break that you found yourself falling into old habits. Will you ever learn to quit Kim Namjoon?

Word count: 4.6K words

A/N: This was supposed to be short...and then that All Day Part 2 vlog happened and now it's 4.4K 🤡 Also, pay no attention to OC's workout gear...I just thought it looked hot but I have some doubts about the support here. Buuuuut for interest, I thought it would be a good add-on and I love Rihanna's other stuff from her line, otherwise 😂 Anyway! Please enjoy and know that my inbox and DMs are open. Would love to know what you think 😘

“God damn…are you planning to kill him with that outfit or what?”

You guffaw at Lani’s question, nearly messing up the wing on your eyeliner. Namjoon hasn’t given you a hint as to where you were headed tonight but he asked you to dress ‘nice’. You picked a black, ruched, long-sleeved body-con mini dress with a deep-plunge neckline.

“Calm down. It’s just dinner,” you say while finishing your makeup.

“Ooohh…and you’re on the menu. Got it,” She teased, motioning to your partially exposed cleavage.

You turn and throw a balled up tissue at her in jest. “I most definitely am not!” You turn back to your mirror. “Besides, I told him that we’re having none of that until…we establish some ground rules. If he wants to be with me, I want to see a bit more effort on his part,” you reason.

“Are you putting the kitty on lockdown or what?”

You snort at her comment but your expression turns sober almost immediately after. “I just want to know whether this can work without sex being on the table the entire time.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Lani starts cackling.

You squeeze your eyes shut and wrinkle your nose. “Damn, that came out wrong.”

After recovering you clarify, “Anyway! What I was actually trying to say was that…I want to see if there’s more to this.”

Lani paused and turned serious in a matter of seconds. “Well, you started off as good friends, right? That’s promising.”

You twisted your lips wryly. “Yeeeaah, until we fell into bed. Add him being this superstar idol and it gets more complicated. I just want to know if there’s something else that would hold us together. And if there isn’t…then I’m completely wrong and maybe I’ll wake up and realize that I was being delusional this whole time,” you finish quietly.

Lani comes up from behind to wrap you in her arms. You leaned into her hold, giving her forearm an appreciative squeeze. She was one of your oldest, most trustworthy friends. “I understand,” she says softly, recalling your conversation when you confessed how you really felt about Namjoon.

“Do what you need to, but remember to be good to yourself, too,” she reminds you.

You cocked your neck sideways at her, face wrinkled in confusion. “What are you talking about? I am good to myself,” you chuckled.

She released you from her hold and sidled next to you. “I meant, if things don’t go as you hoped they would, you shouldn’t blame yourself.” With that, Lani gives you a quick peck on the cheek then leaves your room.

Though her parting words sounded ominous, you couldn’t deny that you were banking on the thought that this would all work out in your favor. You loved Namjoon and wanted to be with him…but it wasn’t that simple. Namjoon hasn’t shown any signs of slowing down in his career at all. There may be a group hiatus but solo efforts were underway.

If work would start to ramp up for him, where would that leave you?

******

Namjoon’s face reflects on your wine glass while you watch the crimson liquid swirl around it. He’d been on the phone for the last ten minutes.

The evening started off promising. Lani was right–you practically had to fight him to keep his hands off you until you reminded him of your agreement. Five dates. And depending how those dates go, maybe you’d consider getting into bed with him again.

It was going to be a challenge, though. Just as you’d throw down the gauntlet, he was happy to pick it up. He showed up looking just as mouthwatering–dressed in a simple black suit with a crisp, dress shirt, top two buttons undone. Although his brushed-back hair made you feral, you had to stick to your guns.

He cleared out the entire back room of a restaurant, all wait staff signing NDAs.

His phone kept buzzing through the first course, which he mostly ignored. Once they brought in the main course, he couldn’t mute the incessant ringing any longer. He apologized to you before answering it.

He glanced at you nervously while you silently munched through your side order of fries and distractedly scrolled through your phone.

“Jon, Jon, listen bro…can we just work this out tomorrow when I stop by the studio?...Yeah…I know but it can wait. We’ll take care of it first thing, the second I get there. Alright…Yeah, thanks. See you then. Bye.” He hung up then sighed. “Sorry,” he says to you immediately.

You peered up from your phone’s screen and gave him a small smile. “That’s alright. Work is work,” is all you say.

He shook his head, reached for your hand across the table and held it. “No, I should have just sent it to voicemail. I told my assistant to field all of my calls because I wanted our night to be free of interruptions.”

You wanted to say something snarky but you held back. At least he didn’t cancel on you and he really tried to ignore his phone since you arrived. Acknowledging his effort, you relax your tense posture. “It’s fine. You’ve got a lot going on with the album and stuff. Besides, I never asked you to stop working on my account.”

“I know that,” he says quietly. “I just wanted this date to be perfect for you.”

You smiled softly at his sincerity. You then leaned in and reached up to brush some errant strands that fell over his eye. “Joon, if I wanted ‘perfect’, I wouldn’t be doing this with you.”

His breath caught for a moment before his mouth curved into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He leaned in to plant a kiss on your lips.

It started off as a soft, melding of your mouths, which quickly turned into hunger. He cupped your face while you curled your hand around his nape to pull him closer. It was almost second nature.

He kissed you deeply, tonguing your mouth in that same leisurely, spine-tingling manner he did when he was between your legs. You once thought he could make you orgasm with his kiss–if you stayed at it long enough. Everything about him turned you on–from the way he looked and felt beneath in your hands to the way he would watch and touch you. He was always greedy for you and you were the same way towards him.

But you abruptly wrench yourself away, leaving him bereft. He tries to pull you back in but you pressed your hand to his chest to stop him.

“As much as I want to,” you chuckled. “I don’t think we should.”

Nodding gently, he backs away. “Are you sure that 5-date rule is non-negotiable?”

You threw your head back in laughter. “You proposed the 5-date rule–not me!”

His mouth falls open at your accusation. “Only because you initially wanted 10,” he nearly shrieks. “It was a compromise!”

Your stomach contracted amidst your giggles. “That’s right…laugh at my pain,” Namjoon says sarcastically.

On your last conversation, you agreed to go out on 10 dates before having sex with him again. He reluctantly suggested a mid-point. Ever since you both started messing around, every interaction with him always ended up with your bodies tangled up in bed.

This was going to be a difficult challenge–not just for him but for you, as well. You loved touching him as much as he loved his hands all over you. Physical contact between you was virtually essential whenever you met. But since you’d asked him for more, you also needed to find out if there was something else to this relationship other than the physical and sexual aspect of it.

“I’m sorry, Joon,” you apologize after finally catching your breath. “But I just think that we really need to try and spend quality time together…without actively fucking,” you reiterate.

He sighed then raked his fingers through his hair. “I know, I know. I’ll try to keep things under control,” he huffed under his breath before taking a long slug of his whisky.

“Thank you,” you say with a sympathetic tone before smiling at him.

The rest of dinner goes smoothly. Unlike what you had initially feared, conversation between you flowed freely and naturally–even when sex was out of the equation. Neither of you missed a beat, laughing and joking about anecdotes about your friends and work.

The evening may have hit a hurdle but you both got over it quickly. It made this effort all the more promising for you.

******

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” He asks when his car pulls up to your building.

“While I would love to say ‘yes,’ I have to finish up some things at the office…which will probably go into the night since the end of the year is right around the corner,” you say with regret.

You then stretch the kinks in your neck. “Plus, I really need to get a workout in. I’ve been putting it off too long.”

“What time do you need to head to the office?”

“My team expects me to be there by 11.”

His eyebrows twitched as the gears in his head started to spin. “Can I propose something to you?”

You purse your lips hesitantly.

“Now, hear me out,” he gently offers. You stared at him for a few beats then eventually acquiesce.

“What if you come by my place? We can work out together in the morning at the gym in my building. I can get breakfast delivered, it will be completely chill. Two hours, tops! You can bring a change of clothes and shower back at my place. Then we can head out together.”

You were already apprehensive about being photographed at his place but showering there? Being in a state of undress while either of you are in the same space? Your 5-date rule would go up in flames in a heartbeat.

He assures you that he would behave himself–even suggesting that you lock the door so he wouldn’t attempt to join you.

“Still though, wouldn’t that be…risky?” The dorms were more private when you used to meet and hook up there back then. You’d only been to his new place three times. The second time you were there, a photographer was hiding in the bushes. The record company had to buy their photos in order for them not to be posted onto tabloids.

The last time you were there was before Namjoon and his bandmates left for their most recent tour that just wrapped up. At that point, you’d agreed not to meet there again whenever he was back in town for breaks.

“Security is much better now,” Namjoon explains. “The loading dock out back was redone and it’s more private than it was before. It’s incredibly difficult to get a photo or footage of whoever is coming in and out of the building unless they hang from the street lamp or tree.”

“Don’t underestimate the will of a very eager photographer,” you say sardonically.

He shook his head. “I promise, it’s secure.”

“What about my car?”

“I can have a driver pick you up from here and bring you to my place. They can drop you off at your office, too.”

He seems to have an answer for all of your concerns, but you didn’t want to hog his driver’s time if he needed him. “Joon, I don’t–”

“It’s fine, really. When you’re done with your work, the driver will be at your disposal. I figured you’d be too tired to drive from downtown and back here.”

He had a point there. There were times when you wished your car would just drive itself especially on long days. “What about you? How will you get to work and back?”

“I’ll ride my bike,” he says simply. “So…what do you say?”

You roll your eyes. “Two hours and no longer than that, okay?”

He nodded emphatically. “I swear!”

You agreed and mouthed your thanks. Before stepping out of the car, you share a chaste kiss–a far cry from the tonsil hockey incident earlier this evening. You step out of the car and watch the black SUV pull away from the curb.

When you enter your apartment, your phone buzzes with a text. A smile crept on your face after reading it.

[Namjoon] 10:40PM: Car will pick you up at 8AM. One down, four to go! Sleep tight, beautiful. 😘

******

The company car was right on time the next morning. And just as he promised, the loading dock was practically fully enclosed. You felt more at ease after seeing it for yourself.

You entered the security code that Namjoon sent to you which activated the elevator’s keypad so you could push the button to ascend to his floor. That was another upgrade from the last time that you were here.

Shortly after you push his buzzer, you hear his front door click open. He comes down to the hallway, already dressed in workout clothes to greet you with a quick kiss.

“Did you find everything okay?”

“Yeah. You weren’t exaggerating about the new security measures,” you say after he pushes the door shut.

“We have a lot of high-profile residents so–the property managers stepped it up. It was a good move on their part. Besides, with the rent that we pay every month? Shit…should be worth the upgrades.”

“Are you ready to go?” You ask, clutching your water bottle and gym bag.

“Yeah–I just need to put my shoes on then we can head to the 5th floor, where the gym is.” He adds that you can leave your bag that contains your change of clothes and that his assistant would come by with breakfast all set up while you went about your workout.

******

Since you hadn’t been to the gym in a while, you weren’t planning on a high-intensity workout. You mainly wanted to be able to stretch out your muscles while getting a good sweat session in. Admittedly, part of that stemmed from frustration brought on by this temporary celibate period but you had to stay focused if you wanted things to work with him.

“What…the…hell…are you wearing?” He nearly punctuates every word in a low, husky tone.

You hadn’t noticed him standing right behind you after you hung your oversized zip-up hoodie on one of the hooks conveniently placed by the treadmill.

“Gym clothes?” You answer as if the issue wasn’t obvious to you.

He took another look at your sports bra. “There’s no way! That is a poor excuse for a top. You look naked!”

You laughed, not understanding what the big deal was. The top showed off a little more cleavage but it was the keyhole cutouts that sat strategically over the swell of your breasts and the criss-cross straps in the back that had him agitated. “You’re overreacting,” you say dismissively.

“And these pants? What the–”

You groan and roll your eyes. The matching high-waisted leggings had strategic stitching that hugged your curves in all the right places.

Ignoring him, you step onto the treadmill, your feet resting on the sides of the machine while you key in your settings on the screen. “Let’s just warm up, okay?” You say before sticking your wireless earbuds in and blasting your workout playlist. You set your phone into a secure slot then step onto the treadmill, starting with a brisk walk.

He poked his tongue against his cheek in annoyance. Scowling, he punches his settings into the machine next to you. Seconds later, he pulls his shirt off and tosses it haphazardly on the bench behind him before stepping onto the treadmill.

The view of his bare chest distracts you causing you to nearly miss a step, but you hold onto the railing and quickly recover. He gave a victorious smirk and began to increase his speed setting. You mirror him after hitting your stride and break into a jog as well.

Guess you weren’t the only one working out certain frustrations.

After twenty minutes you slowed to a stop, finally risking a glance at Namjoon, who was still running fluidly. He was watching the news on the mounted screen, but flashed a smile while you wiped the sweat off your face. Feeling parched, you took a swig from your water bottle and moved to the other machines, picking one that gave you a clear view of him.

Ten minutes later, he moved to the chest fly machine, making sure to keep you in his line of sight. You’d occasionally brush against each other when switching positions within the facility. You watched him work out quickly and efficiently. Thank goodness you had the gym all to yourselves this morning because you just kept ogling at him. He looked so…primal and it didn’t help that you also knew exactly what was underneath those shorts.

Shaking your thoughts away, you moved to pick up a yoga ball to do some crunches before you end your workout.

When you finish, you sit up and idly rock your hips while sitting on the yoga ball to cool down. Distantly, you hear the doors open while your playlist switches tracks.

The newcomer smiled as he approached. You see him linger a bit even after you acknowledge him so you pause your music and pull out one of your earbuds.

“Hi,” he greeted you, with a winning smile that showcased perfect white teeth. “Never seen you around here. Did you just move in?”

“No,” you reply. “I’m just visiting.”

He gives a small nod. “I’m Seokmin, by the way.” He extended his hand, and you shook it after giving your name.

Upon hearing his name, you knew he was familiar except you were a bit behind on your celebrity gossip so you couldn’t quite place him at the moment.

“So,” he began, “Are you here with company?”

“Uhm…” You scanned the room and Namjoon was nowhere to be found. You assumed he might have gone to use the gym bathrooms.

Without missing a beat, Seokmin continues to chat you up. “You know, they recently opened up a smoothie bar down at the lobby in case you wanted to check that out. There’s a separate code for that but I can give you mine, if you want?” He winked.

Just then, Namjoon appeared by Seokmin’s shoulder. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, coming around and behind you to slide his arms around your waist possessively. “I’ve already given my girlfriend permission to have full access to the amenities here.”

The word girlfriend reverberated in your ears. Though you were still working to establish your relationship, it still didn’t stop you from thinking that the distinction had a nice ring to it.

“H-hey, Namjoon,” Seokmin straightened and took a step back, then bowed. “I’m sorry, I had no idea she was with you.”

“‘S’alright. It's not like that's ever stopped you before, huh.” He says in jest, while smacking Seokmin in the arm in a bro-manner. Namjoon had a big smile on his face but you could practically hear the anger threatening to burst out of him.

“But we like to keep things private, so I trust you’ll be discreet about this? You know, a little quid pro quo?” Namjoon gave him a knowing look and an outstretched hand.

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in you and realization sinks in. Seokmin was a K-drama actor who was recently on the tabloids for cheating on his pregnant fiancee. Jia and Lani could not stop blabbing about it.

As they shook hands, you give Namjoon's arm a gentle squeeze in an effort to calm him. “C'mon, Joon, he was just being welcoming,” you say.

“Yeah, he’s very welcoming indeed,” he says with a hint of sarcasm. He absently hands you your sweater and water bottle.

His hair was soaked with sweat and his bare chest was slicked with it as well. He looked like a god. And you’d never known that a sweaty man could smell this good. Your dirty thoughts are interrupted when he slips his shirt back on and turns his attention to you.

His hands stroking down your arms, he says, “Ready to go, baby?” He didn’t wait for you to answer but you felt his lips on the crown of your head. “Catch you later, man,” he says curtly.

You smile politely and wave goodbye as you walk away. “Nice meeting you!”

Seokmin gave a tight smile. “It was great to meet you too.”

Namjoon muttered after you stepped into the elevator. “Fucking asshat. He wouldn’t stop staring at your tits.”

You lifted a shoulder noncommittally. “What can I say? They’re nice tits.”

He made a low growling noise. You stifle a grin to hide your amusement. That was payback for his little striptease earlier.

But he takes you completely by surprise when he slaps your bottom hard, leaving behind a stinging sensation through your pants. “Next time, I’m bringing an extra shirt to cover you up.”

“Since when has the way that I dress been your business?” You quipped as you got off his floor and entered his unit.

He caught your wrist while you both lingered in the hallway. “Since I made a promise to make you a priority,” he answered.

You blinked profusely in surprise.

“Look, I know I haven’t done the whole relationship-thing in a long time and I’m a little rusty at it. But I meant it when I said I’d work my ass off to keep you,” he says firmly. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d see that I’m trying my best here.”

A pang of guilt hits you and you turn apologetic. “You’re right. I’m sorry. And yes, for the record, I see and appreciate the effort you’re putting in,” you acknowledge.

“I don’t want anybody else so…you’ll have to forgive me if I start getting territorial.”

You returned his gaze. “Joon, I would never,” you say apologetically, referring to your little exchange at the gym with Seokmin.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he answered. “I just know him a little too well, unfortunately.”

He was well-aware of Seokmin’s messy behavior. Even so, Namjoon typically kept his head down. Seokmin was a big boy and it wasn’t like Namjoon to stick his nose in other people’s business. He only hoped that his neighbors afforded him the same courtesy.

Jerking his head sideways, he beckons you towards the kitchen and his face visibly relaxes. “C’mon, there’s a large triple mocha that’s got your name on it,” he smiled.

******

“So this counts as date number two, right?” He asks while he sipped on his iced Americano.

You scrunch your eyebrows after biting into a pastry and disagree. “What? All we did was work out! That hardly counts as a date,” you scoffed, downing the rest of your coffee.

“And now we’re sitting here, having breakfast and a conversation!”

You let out a disappointed sigh, “But a gym date, though?”

He laughed. “I thought that the whole point was for us to spend time together without actively fucking?” He arched a questioning eyebrow at you. He gestures at the breakfast spread that his assistant set up, “Wouldn’t you think that this counts as quality time?”

You pucker your lips, thinking for a few beats. Jia and her boyfriend considered sitting on the couch and watching their favorite show together ‘quality time.’

Sure, this may not have been like a date-date like last night but he was making a conscious effort to move things around in his schedule so he could spend time with you.

You thought back to the old days when you’d hang out in his dorm, sitting side-by-side on his bed while you read books. At that point, he only had a little over 12 hours before he and his band moved onto the next city for another show.

“You’re right,” you agreed. “Date number two then.”

He gave a small pump of his fist in triumph. “I’m glad you said that because you’ll probably hate me after I tell you this.”

“What is it?” In the back of your mind, you had a feeling that he probably needed to fulfill a company schedule locally or he had to jet off somewhere.

“After today, I have a packed schedule. I’m under a deadline to finish this album so we can get it mastered by the end of the month. Meaning,” he sighed heavily, his face faltering, “I won’t be able to see you again… for the next two weeks, at least.”

Hearing that made your heart sink but you had to be realistic. You didn’t want Namjoon to put you ahead of his career. All you asked for was to have a place in his life. Not just as a booty call or a fuck-buddy, but for him to be actually committed to you. Part of that was him being more open to you about his schedule, when he previously was evasive about it.

“I appreciate you telling me,” you replied. “Then we’ll just make plans whenever you’re done.”

“Y-you’re not mad?” He says tentatively.

“No,” you smiled. “I’d be pissed if you ghosted me for two weeks without telling me! I just want you to communicate.”

He nodded, “From now on, you’ll always know where I’m at. And…if for some reason I can’t get that message to you myself, I’ll make sure that someone in my staff tells you.”

Your heart soars, making you get up from your seat to sit on his lap–much to his delight.

Could you love this man more than you already did?

You curled your arms around his neck and captured his mouth in yours. “Thank you,” you say to him.

“No need to thank me. I want to do this.” He pinches your chin gently.

You sit in silence, just gazing at each other. The longer you stare at him, the more you seriously consider tossing out your 5-date agreement and letting him take you on his couch right this second. You wished that you didn’t have to go to the office today and that he didn’t need to go into the studio.

His thumb brushed over your lips and touched his forehead to yours. Inhaling sharply, he says, “Alright, I think I need a shower,” before gently sliding you off him. He had a pained expression on his face.

“Again?” Before you sat in his kitchen, you took turns in his shower. You trusted him enough that you didn’t need to lock the bathroom door. In turn, he stayed true to his word and gave you your privacy.

He rose from his chair. “I know. But I need a cold shower before we head out.” It was only then that you noticed him cupping his crotch.

“Oh my god,” your hand flies to your mouth. “I’m so sorry…” You say as he tries his best to cover up his hardon.

“It’s fine. I’ll be done in 10,” he waves you off. You shout out more apologies while he waddles awkwardly to his bathroom.

The next two weeks would be difficult but you thought it might be a good break, considering being in the same room always cranked up the tension between you two.

The good thing was that Namjoon was being more open about how he felt. And while you were ready to scream out the L-word to him, you decided to save it until you felt absolutely sure that neither of you were going to drop the ball. You were making good strides by taking it slow and things were far better than they used to be. For now, you could rest on those thoughts and count the days until date number three.

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